Last Night at the Disco by Lisa Borders

ARC Received from NetGalley

Chances are, you've met the narrator of Last Night at the Disco. Maybe not during the actual 70s, but somewhere in the course of your life you've come into contact with the co-worker, the distant relative, or the child of a friend of your parents' who thought they were Hot Shit^TM. They were better than everybody else, they dropped celebrity names like a litterbug, and they demanded flowers without first purchasing the seeds. They dreamed big and likely manifested what luxury came to them, but at the end of the day you could tap their sternums and hear the Tin Man echo.

Lynda Boyle is that person. She's an A-lister in her mind when in reality she's not even a pop culture footnote. As Last Night at the Disco opens in the present day she's determined to set straight a Rolling Stone article about the recent induction of a rock legend to the Hall of Fame, delivered by her former eighth grade English student. If Lynda gets anything correct in her diatribe, it's that she did facilitate the meeting between 90s feminist rocker Aura Lockheart and Johnny Engel. Pretty much everything after that is history purposely skewed in Lynda's favor.

And it's freaking hilarious, right up to the last few pages of the book when Lynda's epislatory demand for credit concludes with a sitcom worthy womp-womp. But I won't spoil it.

As you read Last Night, you probably won't like Lynda, and that's okay. At the height of the 70s Me Generation she's conceited, vain, manipulative, and myopic. She aspires to fame as a poetess but rarely writes, using her time to schmooze people with actual talent during weekend jaunts to Studio 54. In a way she is like Gatsby's Nick if Nick were petulant and demanded credit for getting Jay and Daisy to hook up. She's convinced everybody loves her, that gay men will turn for her, when it's a sure bet that in the present day she's completely forgotten. 

Lynda isn't Hot Shit^TM, she's a Hot Mess^TM, an unrealiable narrator who would normally inspire me to close a book. I didn't, however, because the mess is such a fascinating train wreck I wanted to know if she got either comeuppance or a clue. That, I also won't spoil.

I did hesitate on reviewing the book here, because while there are music themes within the book, Last Night at the Disco doesn't focus wholly on music. Lynda is surrounded by amazing people - a gifted guitarist, student prodigies, shifty New York types and a cameo from 54's Steve Rubell - and she manages to make the entire story about her. That's the point, of course, but bless her, she isn't dull.

Rating: B

Yoko: A Biography by David Sheff

 

Every once in a while the question comes up on social media: Who deserves the big apology? Something to that effect. Every time I check comments I see the same few names. Monica Lewinsky and Sinead O'Connor for two, and I won't argue there. If anybody ever mentioned Yoko Ono, it's either slipped my memory or else I scrolled too fast. As long as I have lived, I've seen Ono maligned for her art and music styles and blamed for the Beatles breakup. I've read more books about The Beatles for this blog than any other group, and it's easy to tell which authors seemed eager to get in their shots.

In my review of Cynthia Lennon's John, I note that people either love Ono or hate her with great passion, no real middle ground. One would think that over time, especially as receipts come in showing that she wasn't responsible for the band's divorce (it was inevitable after Brian Epstein's death and everybody itching to do their own things), people might lighten up a bit. With regards to Lennon's marriage... just remember John had a part in that.

Of course, the more I thought about it the more I realized the true answer began with an R and ended in ism. Had Ono resembled Cynthia, Pattie, or Jane Asher would she have received as much vitriol? 

Books like Sheff's new biography may help open the doors to appreciation of Ono, and after reading the book I think it would be nice for her to receive it while she is still alive. Her many decades of performance art, film, and music with their themes of feminism and compassion and pleas for peace have never been more relevant.

I read Yoko because I wanted to read about Yoko Ono and receive a fuller picture than I've gotten from other books. Pick up a Beatle or Lennon bio, and her story ends with Lennon's death. Yoko, as expected, not only continues her story through the present day but fills in gaps left blank by other authors. There's a deeper dive into her youth and emergence in New York's art scene. Ono had it rough right from the beginning, including cold and disapproving parents, sexism among her peers, and custody battles with her second husband. Post-Lennon, his fans clamored to keep his memory alive while at the same time chastizing Ono for her efforts in maintaining that visibility. Add to that the number of people around her trying to cash in on Lennon nostalgia by stealing her stuff. Can't win for losing.

All through Yoko, biographer Sheff writes with sympathy for his subject. The reader is advised from the start of Sheff's friendship with Ono. He was the last journalist to interview Lennon and stayed in Ono's inner circle for many years afterward, though he writes they have fallen out of touch. Contributions from Ono's son Sean Lennon and former partner Sam Havadtoy bolster this book as more authorized than other stories. Sheff also notes a book by Elliot Mintz, We All Shine On, which I am reading next. Be on the lookout for a comparison.

Despite that intimate connection, Yoko does not come off as biased. Sheff handles his subject with care but doesn't gush. Yoko works as a supplement to Beatle/Lennon bio but stands strong on its own as the biography of an influential and often misunderstood artist who does deserve recognition apart from the man she married - regardless of what you think of her creativity.

At the very least, though, give Walking on Thin Ice a listen. It's a banger.

Rating: B

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

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

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-

Reading in Rock 2018-2019

Nobody will be happier than I to see this decade end. While I realize the next set of ten doesn't officially begin until 2021, I'm calling it here. The Tweens were okay, but the Teens for the most part can go soak. Stuff happened, and stuff kept me from things that gave me joy. Some of this stuff remains in my head, and it's my goal in the 20s to shake away the stuff and get my groove back.

What peeves me at the moment is that some of this stuff currently clings to the wings of the plane flying us the eff out of this year. I won't elaborate because I'd prefer not to speak bad juju into this space. Know that I intend to reclaim daily joy, and it starts here.

First, I had to discern where my joy truly lives. Is it in writing, publishing, general creativity, where? A good chunk of it, I realize, comes in reading. I feel happy knowing a book on hold at the library is available. I feel happy when I check my library hold queue and see my position moving up on the titles I want to read. Check this out:

I'm third up for the Prince book. I was 9th for the longest time. The Elton John book...still first in line but it seems like months. I don't know if somebody is sitting on the book, or if the librarians are passing it around first or what. I had other books leapfrog it in line. Something has to give soon.

As you see, three of these titles are relevant to this blog. I will review them there as I read them. I did note on my home site the reasons why I stopped reviewing, but you know what? Eff that noise. There is a movement in a specific genre where a spirit of doxxing and harassment has clouded the community. Some people now view critiques of books as personal attacks, and as such reviewing has suffered.

I love books. I love to talk about books. I do not believe a negative or unenthusiastic review destroys careers or discourages sales. I've purchased books despite negative reviews. I have written books. Some people hate them. Whatevs. Certain people have given me grief for years; I didn't die.

Consider this a toxic cleanse. I want to talk about books in 2020, but as I am chronically early why wait?

While I Was Out...

I may come back and talk about these in depth later, but perimenopause brain fog is a bitch. While you were watching Bojack Horseman and/or writing thinkpieces about the Star Wars, I spent the last two years reading over 150 books, including these seven:

Paul McCartney: The Life by Philip Norman I noted on Goodreads that I enjoyed this bio more than I did the other McCartney book I've read (it's reviewed here). Norman's bio of John Lennon has stayed with me somewhat as well, and at times I've had his books on Jagger and Clapton on hold. I may be due for a general re-read of Norman's works to refresh my memory, but what I can recall of this: it didn't come off as a character assassination piece. Granted, Paul's no angel, but I recall some objective atmosphere with this book. Rating: B+

Thanks a Lot, Mr. Kibblewhite by Roger Daltrey This was my first read of 2019. It's not as long as Pete's brick of a memoir, and from what I recall it's not as meticulously detailed. Still, I learned new things from Roger's story and remain amazed that I can be charmed by people who do not always deserve the attention. These are rock stars who do rock star things, and shrug off what causes most of us vanilla peeps to clutch our pearls. Anyway, if you're a fast reader this is a two-day splurge at best. Rating: B

Geddy Lee's Big Beautiful Book of Bass I do wish I could have attended a signing. This is a coffee table book, beautifully photographed and presented as a practical bible of the instrument. It's not solely for Rush fans, but any person who appreciates the bass. I like the idea of this book, because you find the bass - any instrument - is artwork, and offers diversity in a song as much as it is a stable line the lead guitar can wrap around. Rating: A

The Roof: The Beatles' Final Concert by Ken Mansfield When I need cheer, I go to YouTube and search for this concert. I wondered what a book like this could tell me that I couldn't discern from the actual footage. I read this over a day and a half in March, and honestly the memory of it didn't stick. Author Mansfield worked for Apple at the time, so that got him upstairs. Awesome for him, but otherwise the book in my memory is a stretched-thin memoir. Rating: C

Daisy Jones & the Six by Taylor Jenkins Reid This was one of the 'it' books of the year, the celebrity book club darling. It will probably become a film with Brie Larson and Chris Pine or whoever is hot in the next two years. I liked it from the standpoint of the story - 60s-70s L.A. music scene, romantic drama and a woman at the forefront. It's told in oral history style, much like Kicking and Dreaming and a few other books reviewed here. So if that type of book rankles you, be warned. Other readers speculate the story is inspired by Fleetwood Mac; it may be true, but I got some Joni Mitchell/Graham Nash vibes. Rating: B+

Face It by Debbie Harry In the non-Rush category, I would rank this my favorite of the books listed here. I see some Blondie die-hards have dismissed it as derivative of earlier books about the band, but I never followed Blondie beyond the one greatest hits CD I own. Well, that and The Muppet Show. I look at a book by a newish to me group as a learning opportunity, and what stories Debbie told interested me. Word of warning, you'll enjoy this more in print. It's graphic heavy and that doesn't always translate well to digital. Rating: B+

Backstage Pass by Paul Stanley I don't dislike this book, but I liked Face the Music more. By and large, this is a TED talk, perhaps a companion to what self-helpish books Gene has written. It's short and basically boils down to Paul telling you that people who try to bring you down can go eff themselves. He adapted "the Secret" to his own terms and now look at him. Seriously, you see Backstage Pass and think it's a deep dive into the world of KISS, but it's more of a backstage pass into Paul as Starchild the guru, and you may take something from his experiences. Rating: C

Watch for more reviews in 2020. I hope to add more diversity to this archive - stories about female artists, artists of color, and musicians who aren't necessarily big with Western audiences. Of course, if I see a Rush book I'll be on it like By-Tor on the Snow Dog. Peace.

Summer Reading in Rock

Every summer I say I will read more, and every summer I flop on the couch and pray for winter to hurry up. If it's possible to feel too hot to read, I've achieved it. I fear I've reached a point in my life where I have to psych myself not only to read a book, but discuss it. Typically I pledge to read 150 books a year on my Goodreads account. This year I shot low - 50 - but I'll surpass that number. By how much, I can't say.

I've bought rock books, reserved them at the library, and put them away. I apologize for hitting the low curve of the cycle once again, but I have finished a few titles and have thoughts. I look forward to the later half of this year when biographies of Stevie Nicks and Artimus Pyle are released. In the meantime...

The Beatles Play Shea by James Woodall
a Kindle single - buy at Amazon

This title is short. I picked it up during a Kindle Unlimited trial that included The Handmaid's Tale and a Fred Stoller memoir. The sub-title on the cover misled me at bit. I had expected to read an actual history of the landmark concert at Shea Stadium and instead came away learning very little. There's buildup to the event but little substance, and at times the narrative strayed to other topics distantly relevant to the event.

Most Kindle singles tend to be essays that may appear in parts in magazines, or long chapters of current or future works. I get the impression it's the case here. Had I purchased this title instead of taken advantage of it during the KU trial, I would have been more disappointed.

Rating: C-

Altamont: The Rolling Stones, The Hells Angels, and the Inside Story of Rock's Darkest Day by Joel Selvin
Buy at Amazon

I can't explain what it is about the Altamont concert that attracts me. I've seen Gimme Shelter and read other accounts of the day (there's a Kindle single about this, too, reviewed here). Somebody even made a short documentary about Meredith Hunter, the man stabbed by a Hell's Angel security guard. It's all history seems to tell about the day, but if the topic is new to you this book covers everything from the initial plans for the concert to its multiple tragic aftermaths.

I hadn't realized Hunter wasn't the sole casualty at Altamont, and I won't spoil the book's contents. It's an engaging tangle of ambition and opportunity in a time when the Stones struggled to compete for face time - with the Beatles fading from the picture, now they had to deal with the California sound and recent Woodstock alumni. Altamont was to have been the West Coast answer to the festival, and this book offers up a nice guide on how not to plan a free concert. It's a story that may make you angry as well, particularly when you read of Hunter's story and that of friends and family after the show.

Rating: B

Spring Reading: Mama and Junior

Remember me? Yes, it's been quite a while since I last opined on a rock star memoir. Believe me when I say I hadn't intended to let Chez BTRU go stale, and though people who advise on the proper way to live as a blogger tell you not to explain long absences, I feel I owe one.

Since starting this blog I've posted reviews every other month - sometimes the gap is wider, but I deliver something. After posting my last review in June I had another book in my TBR and plans for a summer vacation of reading. Then in July, on the day we woke to leave for our trip, we were told my mother-in-law died. Helping to settle her affairs took the rest of the summer.

Fall brought school, more estate stuff, and the day job. During Christmas vacation I felt enough time had passed that I could resume reading and blogging...then I got laid off. The day after Christmas, no less. I lost January looking for work, and February and March dealing with two separate health crises in the immediate family.

So 2016 took some family, a job I loved, and all the cool celebrities, and the gloom left me sliding into 2017 with little desire to do anything. We're almost into April and I'm once again working to resume a productive life - productive in the things I enjoy. This past week I went book shopping and found a few gems to share.

Book Riot clued me in to California Dreamin' by Pénélope Bagieu, a graphic novel covering the first two-thirds of the life of Cass Elliot. As one fourth of the harmonious 60s group The Mamas and the Papas, Cass offered an amazing voice to the music scene. I'm not a die-hard fan, but I could probably name about a dozen hits off the top of my head as they were one of the more important bands of the era, bridging folk to pop and offering serious competition to the British invasion. Had Cass lived, I don't doubt she'd have continued a successful post-Mama career, if not in music then some hybrid of stage, cabaret and TV - hell, maybe a cartoon spinoff from that Scooby Doo special she did. She'd have been a riot on Twitter, too.

Bagieu's illustrative biography is more of a serial in that Cass's story (from early to age to the cusp of TM&TP's breakthrough) is told from the perspectives of the important supporting players in her life. Her sister gets a chapter, then her school BFF, collaborators, would-be lovers and rivals chime in to reveal the evolution of Ellen Cohen to Cass Elliot. Bagieu's artwork is loose and lush, not completely detailed scene for scene, but she gives enough distinction for each person portrayed - Cass's wide-eyed awe, John Phillips' austerity, Michelle's pixie beauty, and Denny Doherty's shaggy hippie charm. It's like Bagieu sketched out Cass's story as gently as possible, as though to provide some comfort to the young woman who put up with so much BS throughout her short life. I enjoyed reading Dreamin', but I would advise if you want to read this spend the money and buy it in print. Reading graphic novels via Kindle, even through the web reader, is a pill.

Rating: A

~

I picked up Matt Birkbeck's Deconstructing Sammy after seeing it marked down through an eBook deal newsletter. It's not so much a biography of Sammy Davis, Jr. as it is a cautionary tale. I've read similar stories about entertainers, how one can generate millions of dollars over a storied career yet have nothing to show for it by the end. You can have an amazing voice, dance on ceilings without wires, and recite Shakespeare to make people cry, but if you don't have any money sense you're toast. TL;DR - If you want to major in drama, minor in business and read everything you sign.

Deconstructing is the more the story of Albert "Sonny" Murray, a former federal prosecutor whose involvement in settling Davis' IRS entanglements came at the behest of family and friends on behalf of Davis' widow, Altovise. Similar to the aftermath of James Brown's death, as told in James McBride's Kill 'Em and Leave (reviewed here), Davis died with his estate in dire straits, and survivors fighting over rights to exploit. Altovise wanted her Hollywood lifestyle back, Sammy's daughter wanted a musical made, but until the IRS got theirs nobody got anything.

Fixing the seemingly impossible fell to Murray, and as you read you may want to root for him the most, considering how the deeper he gets into Davis' "afterlife" the more unpleasant surprises await him. Davis proves as interesting in death as he did alive, in every sense surrounded by people stuffing their pockets. Birkbeck balances the timelines of Davis' life of extravagance and strife with Murray's determination to finish a job and frustrations in bringing his parents to financial solvency by helping to save their inn - the first in the Poconos to cater to black tourists. It's fascinating to read.

As I write this I'm not yet finished with the book. I wanted to contribute to the blog, and these titles seem to go together in that each tells a bittersweet story, in that you wonder what could have been with a longer life for Cass and a broader legacy for Sammy, a huge star in his time who hasn't enjoyed the exposure of a Sinatra or Elvis after his passing, but certainly warrants it. For now I'm giving the book a B but that rating might change when I finish.

Kathryn Lively is back...for now.

Beatlebone by Kevin Barry

Somewhere in the middle of Beatlebone (AMZ) the author squeezes in an interlude which explains the research that went into authenticating John Lennon's voice for this story, and the history behind Dorinish Island as once owned by the singer. Once you get to this part of the book you may think one of two things: 1) Uh, shouldn't something like this appear at the tail end of the story, like an Afterword?, or 2) Oh, thank God.

This is not to say the prose of Beatlebone will leave your eyes crossed. It's uniquely told, stream of conscious narrative married with rapid exchanges of dialogue, and given the focus of the book it's an appropriate presentation. I think that Barry's interlude in the middle works because it's unexpected, much like the things John experiences in this story, and perhaps unconsciously Barry tipped toward a similar "intermission" gag in the movie Help!

So it's 1978. Lennon hasn't cut a record of original material in about four years. He has a toddler at home and an island on the Western coast of Ireland, bought in the late 60s. He gets the idea if he spends a few days on this deserted floating rock and employs some Primal Scream therapy and chain smoking he'll rejuvenate his creativity. Getting there, though, is half the battle, most of the headache, and all over a trip more surreal than the back-masking on "Strawberry Fields Forever." Seems some of the locals are in no hurry to help John get to where he wants to go. In his de facto guide Cornelius, John find camaraderie and irritation in the same package. Cornelius wants to feed John blood pudding (not on a macrobiotic's menu) and drag him to a pub and help him dodge the press with a quick hideout in a hotel full of "ranters."

John just wants to get to the "fucken" island. What happens from there, a lost "album" spilling from John's mind like coming down from a magnificent high, is at once lyrical and bizarre. Makes you want to go back and find In His Own Write and Spaniard in the Works to see how they compare.

Barry writes in his interlude how he sees most Lennon-centric fiction as "character assassinations." It's easier to do when your subject can't speak up, but Beatlebone aims for an introspective John who doesn't treat everybody like crap. If you're looking for a more traditional narrative this book might drive you nuts, but it's worth the read if you can hold on.

Rating: B

Kathryn Lively did get to cross Abbey Road, but doesn't Scream.

You Should Be Dancing: My Life with the Bee Gees by Dennis Bryon

My husband met two or three of the Gibb brothers once at a party. This would have been around the mid to late 1980s - he was a personal trainer with some rather well-off clients, one of whom was the wife of the heir to a specific brand name product. Long story short, her hubby was indisposed and she needed an escort to this party at the Gibbs' Miami home. I have no further details beyond "they seemed like nice guys," so don't ask if people were doing blow on glass-topped coffee tables before Crockett and Tubbs kicked down the front doors.

Anyway, I'd had this one Bee Gees biography on my radar for a while, but after seeing a number of negative reviews, including one detailing a mile-long list of factual errors, I mentally shelved it. Dennis Bryon's You Should Be Dancing: My Life With the Bee Gees (AMZ / BN / KOBO / ITUNES) came up for review and caught my eye. I hadn't seen the group's 1979 Spirits Having Flown show, but my husband (14 at the time) had, and still points to it as one of the best live shows he's ever seen. Bryon toured as drummer then, and his book provides detailed insider information when the Bee Gees peaked in sales and popularity. When I think of the Bee Gees, I tend to focus on the songwriting and vocal harmonies. A non-musician fan like me might forget that for five years they were supported by a solid band on stage and in the studio, so a book like this helps me appreciate the people who contribute to great music.

Before the Gibbs, Bryon grew up in Wales and dreamed of a life which didn't chain him to work as an electrician. After taking up the drums, he enjoyed success with the Amen Corner, a Wales-based rock/blues group better known in their native country. They rode high for about three years, then poof. Done. Bryon doesn't dwell much on the band's demise, hinting perhaps at a restlessness among some musicians and a desire to try new things. The band's split leaves him scraping for any work in the music industry, and he comes close to taking a tour manager position before a former bandmate steers him toward the Gibbs.

The heart of Dancing, of course, chronicles his tenure in the Bee Gees' band with Alan Kendall and Blue Weaver, arguably at the pinnacle of their career. Bryon's memory appears photographic at some points - there are passages where he describes the layout of a studio right down to the screws in the door hinges. He's kind to all the Gibbs and extended family, assigning personalities we probably would have guessed for each: Barry the devoted family man, Robin the quiet one, Maurice the joker. Every occurrence in this five-year period happens in Bryon's recall as though everybody involved wrote and rewrote music history with the greatest of ease. Of course, it's not entirely untrue given the success of Saturday Night Fever in this time.

Post-Bee Gees anecdotes are equally interesting, particularly his work with the doomed younger brother Andy. The aforementioned Bee Gees biography weathered criticism over a perceived vitriolic portrayal of Andy, but I found Bryon's memory sympathetic without being sugar-coated. Had Andy survived his addictions, who's to say Bryon's drumming career wouldn't have lasted several more years. (If you're tooling around Youtube tonight, Bryon appeared in the Andy Gibb episode of Gimme a Break! There's low-quality video here, he's at 1:02; then again here at 3:26 where he delivers a line.)

Overall, Bryon's narrative throughout Dancing comes off so positive, when you read about his unceremonious firing (via a phone call from a non-Gibb - a rather cowardly act), he doesn't seem angry enough. When you read about a guy going from six-figure advances for an album to zip you'd expect some anger to singe your fingers as you turn pages. You get the impression Bryon, though frank about money and marriage troubles later in life, takes a zen approach to things. He could hug Barry after putting time between the wounds, but while Bryon ends his story touching on the whereabouts of a few close friends there's no mention at all of the deaths of Maurice and Robin.

Another question lingering in the air: does Bryon feel his dismissal from the band affected the Bee Gees' popularity? General opinion points to the demise of disco, dragging the Gibbs into the pit with all the discarded mirrorballs, but it's important to note they continued to write several hit songs in the 80s...for other people. We can also look at numbers. Prior to Bryon joining the band with Alan Kendall, the Bee Gees released 11 eleven albums, only four of which charted in the US Top 20. Their next effort, Mr. Natural, barely cracked the Billboard Top 200, but here's the rundown with the Bryon/Kendall/Weaver combo (stats via Wikipedia):

• Main Course: Gold (US); Platinum 2x (CAN)
• Children of the World: Platinum (US & CAN)
• Here at Last: Bee Gees Live: Gold (US, CAN, UK)
• Saturday Night Fever: Platinum 15x (US); Diamond (CAN) - Number One in at least 9 countries
• Spirits Having Flown: Platinum (US & UK); Platinum 4x (CAN) - Number One in at least 7 countries

Aside from the Staying Alive soundtrack and a greatest hits package, the Bee Gees haven't had a Top 10 album in the US since the dismissal of the Bryon/Kendall/Weaver grouping. Maybe changing the band played a role in sales, maybe not. The music made during this five-year span stands up well, and has a great beat.

An ARC was provided by the publisher for review.

Rating: B

Kathryn Lively writes, and reads.

Let's Go Crazy: Prince and the Making of Purple Rain by Alan Light

Buy Let's Go Crazy (AMZ / BN / KOBO / ITUNES)

We can argue whether or not Purple Rain remains the pinnacle of Prince's lengthy career, but in a short period of time when a handful of performers took that step from gold record to legend (Springteen, Madonna, Michael Jackson), Prince seemed destined to fill out that musical Rushmore. In 1984 he simultaneously had the top film, album and single in the nation, and I don't know if that feat's been matched. Maybe in the UK with the Spice Girls, but likely not here.

Author Light was one of the few journalists with access to Prince in the 80s and 90s. Though Prince contributed nothing new to this book, Light includes archived sound bytes and new insight from former members of The Revolution, Questlove (who taught a course on Prince's music at NYU), and others involved in the film's production. The story of how Purple Rain the film came to be greenlit, and how Prince convinced his entourage of musicians to come into this medium with no acting experience could make for an equally interesting, if not more dramatic, film. When you peel away the aloof exterior (gossip at the time pegged Prince at various points on the egotistic spectrum, from mysterious to cold-as-stone to unprintable) you find a performer determined to work twenty-fours without sleep if it means expanding his reach beyond R&B radio, where record labels seemed content to place him. That he succeeded in negotiating a movie deal in tandem with new music speaks for his determination and savvy, and for the good insight of certain people in the industry.

Light tells the story well in Let's Go Crazy - it's not a lengthy book but the cast and crew only had so such time to film. Purple Rain takes much of the focus in this microhistory of the 80s music scene and even clarifies a few misconceptions of Prince's character (read: the "We Are the World" debacle). I do take off a few points for the instances where Light injects personal bias into the story. Light admits his admiration and fan status, but in a few places the book treads into memoir territory, and that might turn off a few people. Other than that, I liked this book for its nostalgia value (though I feel pangs for reaching an age where I can be nostalgic about anything), and one of these days I'll get to see the movie on the big screen as intended.

Rating: B

Snodgrass and Other Illusions by Ian R. MacLeod

I found Snodgrass and Other Illusions (AMZ / BN / KOBO / ITUNES) by accident. I had a credit to redeem for a free book on [defunct ebook site], and Open Road Media is one of the major publishers that accepts it. I've purchased a number of reprints from the house, and when this purple floating mirage of cartoon Lennon appeared on my screen I bit. This is a collection of stories from acclaimed author MacLeod, speculative and science fiction, yet Snodgrass is presented at the forefront not necessarily because of the Beatles link, but due to a recent UK television adaptation. For this review, as we're a rock and roll book blog, I'm only reviewing this story.

Despite my trigger Buy Now finger, I remain wary of Beatles fiction. I've read some interesting takes and I've seen some shit. With the exception of John Lennon and the Mercy Street Cafe, everything I've read stays within the boundaries of band history. Some have classified Snodgrass as science fiction, but it's more alternative history. It's a What If that has a middle-aged Lennon - having missed the acorn planting, war is over if you want it phase - living hand to mouth in Birmingham. Cynthia and Julian exist, but you only hear of them in passing as John left them long ago. Them and the band. In this timeline, creative differences prompt John to quit The Beatles on the cusp of their international breakthrough. In 1990, Lennon can barely buy smokes and The Fabs have plugged along for decades, presumably with no Lennon versus McCartney tension to inspire a break-up.

It's a bleak story, and after reading I still can't decide who is worse off in this speculation: John for having left the band in 1962, or The Beatles for maintaining commercial popularity yet not achieving that level of influence that other bands can't touch. Lennon comes off as grouchy and sardonic, a shell of the younger man whose dark sense of humor is legend.

I liked the story - it's definitely one of the better Beatle fictions I've read. I'm slowly working through the rest of the book to see how other stories compare.

Rating: B

Sound Man by Glyn Johns

It's rare that I have found a recent work for this blog that isn't a rock star memoir. While Glyn Johns had a very brief career as a singer (with modest success in non-English speaking Europe), he is known more as a producer and engineer. He had the great fortune of being present at the creation of many now-legendary albums. Can you imagine hearing Led Zeppelin for the time ever, before the records are even pressed? Johns has this enviable place in history, and when you pick up Sound Man (AMZ) you might expect a vivid portrait of 60s and 70s rock as it evolved and how the people who created the sound lived.

You do find it, to some extent. As Johns explains in Sound Man, he came to music with the intent of singing and performing when circumstances led him to the engineer's booth and kept him there for better part of four decades. This book, though, is more technical than dramatic, with Johns focusing less on his personal life (and therefore his relationship with many of the players) in favor of the mechanics of recording music. If you'd prefer to know the equipment and recording methods used to create Let it Be and Sticky Fingers you struck gold. If you want eyewitness accounts of groupies and candy bar urban legends...sorry. At best, you'll receive hints of behavior in the studio and notes on personalities Johns liked and disliked. He doesn't seem afraid to call out a unpleasant person or his opinion of how Phil Spector "puked all over" Let it Be.

If the science behind recording music fascinates you, you will enjoy Sound Man. You won't find any more personal insights on your favorite musicians that can't be read elsewhere, but the light personal touches and style of the book make it easy and interesting to read.

ARC received from the publisher via NetGalley

Rating: B

Kathryn Lively is an author and book blogger.

Rocks: My Life in and out of Aerosmith by Joe Perry with David Ritz

I like Aerosmith. I'm not die-hard Blue Army, but when I settle in for a long night of writing I always put "Back in the Saddle" at the top of my writing playlist to get in the mood. I can credit the band for jump-starting my last three books in a way, and I'm certain they'll be around for the next three.

I've not seen Aerosmith live but they're on the bucket list. As it happens, Aerosmith seems to be cursed where my town is concerned. At least three shows that I can recall had been postponed and/or canceled - one because of 9/11, one because of illness, and one because of a hurricane. I don't shake my head at juju, either. I genuinely fear for these guys if they ever do show up at the beach, like somebody will have a bad crabcake and pay dearly for it onstage.

Since I haven't followed their career, I see what I see, and most of the time it's Steven Tyler (I didn't even know the drummer's name until the Flaming Moe ep on The Simpsons). The flash, the scarves, the lips...a neophyte would think him the heart of the band. At the very least, a lung. I looked forward to Perry's memoir, Rocks (AMZ), because I'd get to read about a band on my rotation that I don't know very well. I enjoy reading these stories more to compare how these musicians rose from youth to legend. While Perry seemed to have come from familial stability, he didn't embrace his parents' zeal for academia but benefited from their support for his career choice. Deeper into the book you find Aerosmith's story doesn't really differ from other bands - dodgy management, waffling support from labels, and tension among band members. Every time I think I've read the epitome of the dysfunctional "brotherhood" (the Van Halens, Gene and Paul, Paul and John) somebody comes along to top it. Perry's frank description of Tyler's shenanigans make for the book's more interesting anecdotes, and I have to wonder how Perry made it this far putting up with him.

Rocks reads more eloquently than similar memoirs. I can't say if that's the influence of Perry's co-writer, but as I'm not familiar with Perry I don't his know voice beyond Aerosmith's music. One might seem put off in that it doesn't match the band's persona, but it didn't distract me from Perry's story. I got the impression Perry wants to reassure us that despite the history of drugs he is a "good guy." There's emphasis on his disdain for groupie collecting, for one.

Rocks will best serve the die-hards who love Aerosmith, and those who consider Perry an influence. There are pockets of good gossip here and there, but the narrative holds it back enough so it doesn't read as sleaze. An extended acknowledgements section about Perry's and Aerosmith's equipment reads like guitar pr0n for the musicians, emphasizing this book as one for those into the music.

ARC received via Netgalley from publisher.

Rating: B

Kathryn Lively is a mystery author and book blogger.

Summer Reads: The Spaceman and The Capeman

If you have followed this blog for a time, you know it happens in fits and starts. I prefer to read books published within a year or less at time of reading, and lately I've found it challenging to sit down and read for leisure. Work intervenes, family intervenes...everybody got the summer off but me. When I do get the opportunity to read it's close to bedtime and I hate to fall asleep and lose my place. We're already into August and I've managed to finish two books relevant to the blog, and in the interest of sharing my thoughts I decided on a catch-all summer reading post.

Since my friend Joe already reviewed Ace Frehley's book, No Regrets (AMZ / BN / KOBO / ITUNES), on this blog, I hadn't intended to read it for myself. A few months ago, I happened upon the book at a discount store, heavily marked down, and my husband bought it for me. I figured, having read Paul's and Peter's memoirs and one work where Gene's point of view is largely present, I should complete the set. This didn't take long to finish - it's a short book compared to the others and the style is easy and flows. One thing I did notice with regards to Ace's early life compared to his former bandmates is that he seemed to have come from a more stable home environment, with supportive parents and siblings. Nonetheless it wasn't enough to keep him out of trouble.

Like the memoirs of other KISS folk, Ace recalls his side of the story in chronological order - granted his history is shorter than others - and unlike others with a fair amount of brevity. No Regrets reads quickly, not so much because it's a compelling story but that Ace doesn't go too deeply into details (though he admits the memory is fuzzy due to abuse of various substances). For lack of another way to put it, too, the book doesn't read much as a general complaint of his treatment by Paul and Gene post-KISS. You read this and get the attitude you might expect from Ace if you met him personally - everything just rolls off his back and he soldiers on. If any resentment exists, Ace saves it for his perception of how the KISS machine unfairly treated friends and family, in particular his daughter.

In No Regrets, Ace insists friends and family address him by his real name, Paul. He definitely sits on the other end of the spectrum from the other Paul I've read this month. I wouldn't call Paul Simon: An American Tune (AMZ / BN / KOBO / ITUNES) by Cornel Bonca a proper biography of the singer/songwriter, though the author touches on important events in Simon's life as they relate to his career. Tune is foremost a scholarly work, and thankfully not a wholly biased one because it allows the readers to study one interpretation of Simon's music, then decide if it's worth a listen.

Compared to Marc Eliot's 2010 biography (which I haven't reviewed here, but you can read my thoughts of it on Goodreads), Tune is a treat for die-hard Simon fans in that it appears better researched and less sensationalist. If you come to this expecting the standard unauthorized biography gossip - the failed marriages, the Garfunkel angst, that unsettling tiff with Edie Brickell earlier this year - you'll leave disappointed.

That's not to say Bonca doesn't explore the personal aspects of Simon's career. Not unlike his peers (Bob Dylan mentioned most often), Simon draws from real life to create, and Bonca deconstructs Simon's song catalog while interspersing brief histories of Simon's progression in his career. As you read Tune you may find amazement in the balance of Simon's failures and successes. Simon, and to some extent Simon and Garfunkel, has always seemed ever-present in pop culture since the 60s, but Tune points out the many struggles Simon faces to stay relevant, especially with the changes in music trends. How does a counter-culture folk/pop star thrive in the early MTV-era? Bonca concedes while Simon is not as prolific as some of his peers, the messages in his song holds relevance. I have to agree with that - the first original episode of Saturday Night Live to air after 9/11, and who performs?

~

So this is my summer so far. I also got my hands on an advanced copy of Joe Perry's memoir, and I'll be looking for Billy Idol's book in the near future. Just to be straight: you want Paul Frehley for the sexy rock gossip and the Paul Simon for the fascinating music history and criticism.

Paul Simon: An American Tune was received via NetGalley.

Ratings: B- for No Regrets; B for Paul Simon: an American Tune

The Fifth Beatle: The Brian Epstein Story by Vivek Tiwary, Philip Simon (Editor), Andrew C. Robinson (Illustrations), Kyle Baker (Illustrations)

ARC received via NetGalley.

Buy the book at Amazon.com.

One thing I've noticed in what's become my scholarly study on The Beatles is that one can find a wealth of information on the band, the individual members, and their chronological history. I may know more about John Lennon than I do my current president, and yet information on their manager, Brian Epstein, remains scarce. Pretty much everything I know about Epstein came from Peter Brown's memoir, The Love You Make. I know I tend to hold up that book as the standard, but years and years after I've read it, the memory is fresh.

There are Epstein-centric books, though, none of which I have read: among them a ghostwritten autobiography published at the height of Beatlemania that is likely sanitized to appeal to young fans, and a more in-depth history from Lennon biographer Ray Coleman. One could guess the lack in reading material about Epstein corresponds to the short time he worked with the band and the fact he died so young. I see pictures of Epstein and imagine a man beyond his years - always mature and serious - when in fact he was only six years older than John.

We can imagine the stress of managing an extremely popular group aged him prematurely. Not only that, Epstein dealt with social prejudices that rendered him depressed and unable to sleep. A public figure comes out as homosexual today and it may not be a big deal, but in 1962 to be gay and Jewish in a tiny English port town equated to painting a large target on your head. The Fifth Beatle, a new graphic novel fictionalizing the life of Epstein, opens with the grim image of Epstein suffering a violent act in what appears to be a hustle gone wrong in a dank Liverpool alley. It's a specter of shame and unrequited feelings that follow him through his short life, terrors he seeks to replace with success.

Fans know the legend - Epstein had little to no talent management experience, but knew the music business through the family chain of record shops. He attends a live show at the Cavern after hearing of the Beatles, and you know the rest. The Fifth Beatle vividly recreates this and other key scenes in Epstein's relationship with The Beatles with sharp characterization and moody colors. Unlike another graphic novel reviewed here (Baby in Black), representations of main and supporting players take on appearances that match their personalities - genuine and assumed. Brian comes off as enthusiastic despite weary expressions, John is sharp and smirking, and Paul exudes a gee-whiz cuteness. Darker scenes position people like Colonel Tom Parker in a demonic setting and Ed Sullivan as wooden (you'll see it soon enough), and Yoko Ono in an eerie cameo.

All through the adventure, Brian has a right-hand woman named Moxie. Whether she existed as a composite of personnel assisting the band and Epstein or as a figment of the imagination (not unlike Jessica Lange's angel/confessor in All That Jazz) remains up for debate. Her role in the story serves to heighten one thing we've always known about Brian Epstein - he was lonely. He had friends and family, and while he may not have been the savviest of managers he had the respect of four lads from Liverpool for a time. Nonetheless, he had no partner with whom to share his success, and that knowledge makes this story all the more bittersweet. His premature death in 1967 is arguably the beginning of the end of The Beatles - that's something I've believed for a long time. We can blame Yoko, but the smoke ignited when the band found themselves without management and couldn't easily decide on a successor.

Anyway, I've followed the progress of The Fifth Beatle for the better part of a year and looked forward to reading it. Overall, I liked the story and the illustration. Fans will easily spot the lyrical Easter eggs in the dialogue, but I find things like that take me out of the story and make it a challenge to take seriously (Clockwork Angels had this same issue). I will admit, too, there are known scenes of Epstein's life that didn't make it to this book. George is barely represented here, Ringo even less, and Pete Best isn't on the radar...unless you count blurred background Cavern images. Also missing or downplayed are moments of John's cruel humor, anti-Semitic and anti-gay slurs that reportedly drove Epstein to tears.

The Fifth Beatle is a welcome tribute to a figure sometimes marginalized in Beatles history. Petitions to get Epstein inducted as a non-performer in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame continue to circulate, and perhaps a book like this will bring more attention to the cause.

Rating: B

Kathryn Lively is the author of Killing the Kordovas, The Girl With the Monkee Tattoo, and The Rock and Roll Mysteries. 

Nothin' to Lose: The Making of KISS (1972-1975) by Ken Sharp with Gene Simmons and Paul Stanley

ARC received from the publisher via Edelweiss.

Get this book now. 

As I sit to write this review, KISS is scheduled to perform where I live. Being elsewhere at the moment, it appears the opportunity to see the band play live has eluded me once more. I will admit, though, (and not to slight Eric Singer and Tommy Thayer) if the day does come I hope I get to see the original lineup. It would take a miracle, I know, but such sentimentality keeps me from spending money on acts that have replaced key players. When Rush puts Darren Stephens in place of Alex Lifeson, I'll know it's the end.

On this blog you'll find reviews of both Ace and Peter's memoirs. Where these books cover the entire span of KISStory and beyond, Nothin' to Lose does as advertised: it's a lengthy eyewitness account of the band's birth told in the oral history fashion similar to Sharp's other effort, Starting Over (also reviewed here). While this method of storytelling brings many voices to the forefront, I find this style risks the loss of an objective point of view. The book's introduction about KISS reads like a gushing fan letter, which didn't irritate me but did leave me wondering if any unflattering remarks or anecdotes didn't make the cut under the watchful eyes of Gene and Paul.

Nothin' compiles the memories of a huge cast involved in the band's genesis as Wicked Lester through their early association with Casablanca Records. More than thirty years after his death, Neil Bogart represents an enthusiasm for KISS's showmanship and drive through archived interviews - you also hear from early fans (many relatives and close friends of the original members), early road crew, former managers, and other musicians. Yes, I do give them points for an extensive section on the Rush/KISS connection, the Bag Man story, and an amusing picture of Geddy Lee covered in whipped cream that a few people I know will want to see.

You might wonder, how are Peter and Ace represented here? They do have voices, though Peter's contribution to Nothin' isn't as large as Gene and Paul's, and Ace appears less frequently. Nothin' to Lose offers a view of the early days of KISS with little evidence of in-fighting - maybe a few vocal concerns about drug and alcohol, but otherwise everybody plays nice. This doesn't mean you won't find gossipy bits to enjoy; I came away from the book with the perfect Boogie Nights image in my head about Casablanca. Nobody can accuse the 70s of being boring, and despite the healthy size of the book I wanted to read more. 1975, where the book technically ends, marks the beginning of the golden age of KISS. Tales of the humble start, from the tiny clubs and an odd Seinfeld connection, provide a wealth of memories for fans - perhaps this book's success will inspire a second volume.

Rating: B

Kathryn Lively is a mystery author who still hasn't seen KISS live.

How the Beatles Rocked the Kremlin by Leslie Woodhead

Buy now from Amazon.

I will confess when it comes pop culture and music, I often take an American-centric point of view. If a band suddenly drops of the radar, I might assume they broke up or fell out of favor with their label, forever relegated to sixth-billing at state fairs. It may not occur to us that certain musical acts sell well in other countries. I know somebody who co-wrote a song that became a number one hit in South America. The US market is important, surely, but it's not the only game in town.

One can imagine what kids in the USSR did for entertainment, and if they even heard of The Beatles during the band's prime. As it turns out, the Fabs managed to breach the Communist bloc, serving as unofficial ambassadors of the West. Filmmaker Woodhead, responsible early in his career for one of the first clips of the Beatles in action (which you can view on the author's website), would discover the group's impact on Soviet youth as he filmed documentaries. His interactions with fans and stories of government-approved (and illegal) acts influenced by the Beatles are compiled in How the Beatles Rocked the Kremlin.

If there's one appealing thing I found about this book, aside from the Russian perspective of The Beatles, is the author's honesty from the beginning - many Beatle books I've read are authored by fans...die-hards. Woodhead doesn't claim a high level of fanaticism, and I like that it lends an objective voice to this first-person narrative. Woodhead takes us through the Soviet Union, then later Gorbachev's post-glasnost Russia, to meet some of the more avid Beatlemaniacs of the East. Where my aunts could easily buy the Capitol-released albums at any store in South Florida, these comrades waited for contraband records to come in via various sources (sometimes first through port towns, though the children of the privileged class were able to get their hands on the music). Many learned English via the Beatles, and took up instruments in an attempt to keep the music alive behind the Iron Curtain. Then there's the guy with the Beatles shrine (the pictures included in the book likely don't do it justice) whose admiration of the band certainly rivals that of the most fervent comrade's devotion to the Party.

What you won't find in this book (aside from personal experiences relayed by the author) are stories of interactions with actual Beatles. McCartney's historic concert is covered, and serves as a bittersweet coda for those denied the opportunity to see the entire band and follow them as the rest of the world did. The true stars of Kremlin, however, are the fans who closely guarded their admiration for the Beatles in an unaccepting atmosphere. When I recall reading stories of "Beatle burnings" in certain American communities in reaction to John Lennon's "more popular than Jesus" remark, I find it interesting how people in the Soviet Union probably would not have had the opportunity to choose to burn a record - the government would make that decision. Yet, despite an ever-present government and rules, the Beatles managed to sneak through, proving nothing short of immortal (or divine) is impenetrable.

How the Beatles Rocked the Kremlin is for the serious Beatles scholar, a fascinating history lesson about the power of music gradually chipping away at oppression. When you begin to read, you may get the impression you're in for some dry reading, but it is the enthusiasm of the Russian fans with whom Woodhead interacts that helps the book come alive. Fifty years after those four young men rocked the Cavern, they continue to rock the Kremlin, the British Isles, the States, the Internet...and that enthusiasm keeps the music alive. Sometimes, all you do need is love, and I know one place to find it.

An advanced review copy was provided by the publisher.

Rating: B

Kathryn Lively is the author of the Rock and Roll Mysteries featuring Lerxst Johnston: Rock Deadly and Rock Til You Drop, and of the collection of short stories, The Girl With the Monkee Tattoo.