Amy, My Daughter by Mitch Winehouse

One might have shaken his head on hearing of Amy Winehouse's death last year. I will admit I was not familiar with her music when she was alive, and much of what I knew about her came from the tabloid press. For a time - to me, anyway - she seemed more famous for her antics and addictions than her talents. When somebody posted an "RIP Amy Winehouse" thread in a message board, however, my first reaction had not been one of expectation. I had genuinely thought it was a joke, because I thought she might just miss entry in the dreaded 27 Club. I don't know why I felt that way - I suppose I read enough entertainment news and see stories about people who abuse their bodies and systems yet continue to tick. Earlier today somebody on my Facebook timeline posted a picture of Keith Richards bearing the caption I've outlived Whitney Houston, Michael Jackson, and Elvis. Betcha didn't see that coming.

Indeed.

These days, when a person of note dies you're likely to find Amazon swell with self-publish cut and paste jobs that cobble together Wikipedia pages and blog articles to create a "biography" of the dearly departed. A few people thought enough of Amy to try to make a fast buck off her name, but when I picked up a copy of Amy, My Daughter (AMZ) I noticed author Mitch Winehouse has pledged the money he makes from this book to the Amy Winehouse Foundation, established in 2011 to assist various charitable interests in the UK, in particular involving people suffering addiction. As one might expect of a memoir by a close relative, Daughter is part love letter, part therapeutic exercise. It is a short book, one you could probably read in a few days, and rather blunt in its execution. Winehouse does not wax poetic, but rather lays down what happened when, who was there, and how he felt at the time.

Some reviews I've seen of this book accuse Winehouse of presenting a one-sided story; really, would you expect different from a grieving father who claimed to invest his time and energy trying to help his daughter overcome drug addiction? Through much of the book he recalls cycles of abuse and regret, with "I'm going to stop" becoming a tired mantra of Amy's up until the end. There's also no love lost for her ex-husband, on whom he appears to have settled the blame for Amy's decline, or the ex's parents, dismissed as leeches who saw Amy more as a wallet than a member of the family.

As this story is not told from an unbiased point of view, it is difficult to get the full story, and Daughter reads like a diary in that you don't get the impression other people close to Amy contributed. It would be interesting to one day read Amy's story from different vantage points to get a fuller picture and determine one thing I didn't wholly glean from this book: how Amy started on this self-destructive path. One day early in her career she's smoking cannabis...what prompts her to start? Peer pressure, curiosity, a desire to fit in? Only one person can answer that, and unfortunately we'll never hear from her.

If you followed Amy's career more closely than I did, you may enjoy Daughter for what Winehouse likely intended it to be: a tribute. Even as he recalls moments of tension and embarrassment, there is an underlying tone of pride and love. Amy should be remembered for her music rather than the negative press, and in time hopefully history will allow for that.

Rating: B-

Kathryn Lively is a mystery author and book blogger.

A Natural Woman: a Memoir by Carole King

I may have told this story on another blog, about the Christmas I was to receive my first "grown-up" stereo. I had asked for one that year, and gladly informed my parents that I required no more gifts other than the stereo if money was a deciding factor in whether or not I got it. Right now, I couldn't tell you the brand - it might have been Panasonic or any other name that's since been eclipsed by Apple - but it came with a built-in tape deck and turntable, and AM/FM tuner. If you're under twenty and reading this, you're probably wondering what the hell I'm talking about. In truth, I'm surprised you're reading this at all.

Getting off track here. Of course, with the stereo I required actual records and tape to play on it. I was long ready to graduate from the cast-off 45s from my parents' record collection (lots of Elvis and doo-wop groups) and crank up the music I wanted to hear. I was pleased to find in my stocking that year three wrapped cassettes to go with the stereo. I'd asked for Joan Jett's I Love Rock and Roll. I got ABBA's Waterloo (okay, I liked that one song), The Beach Boys' Pet Sounds (acceptable), and Carole King's Tapestry.

Who? asked the eleven-year-old for whom popular music didn't exist until the late seventies, and even then there was no Carole King on the radar. Not wanting to insult the gift givers (partly, perhaps because I feared I'd lose the stereo), I gave Tapestry an obligatory listen. Now, you'll probably expect the next sentence to explain how the music blew me away and changed my life forever, but actually what happened is I sat there listening to this mellow-70s schlock staring at some barefoot hippie chick and grousing that she neither looked or sang as cool as Joan Jett did.

The life-changing moment didn't happen for years - not until college when my appreciation for music broadened and Tapestry became a voluntary choice on my hit parade. I eventually played that cassette until King's voice warbled and stretched and the tape spilled from its casing, so badly I couldn't loop it back in. If you're under twenty and still with me you may not understand that last sentence, but there is a chance you're familiar with King's work.  As one of the most prolific songwriters of the rock era (over 100 Billboard Hot 100 hits to her credit or co-credit), her songs have been recorded from The Beatles to Amy Winehouse. If you watched Gilmore Girls, you know her music through the show's theme; if you've seen The Simpsons episode where Lisa sings "Jazzman," you know her music. If you watched Antenna TV's recent Monkees marathon...you get the idea.

I looked forward to reading A Natural Woman as a sort of companion to another book that similarly covered the early to mid rock era, The Wrecking Crew. Where that book chronicled the history of the musicians who supported some of the biggest acts of the 50s-70s in the studio, King - alone and with various partners, including then-husband Gerry Goffin - handled the writing aspect of the business for artists who required it. King recounts rather quickly the circumstances that brought her from a childhood in New York City with aspirations to act to a position as songwriter for some of the top hit-makers in the country. Reading it, King makes it look so simple - you walk into an office with an appointment, show off a few demos, and you're handed a contract. Everything in life should happen so easily.

Years slip with great speed through A Natural Woman - there's marriage and kids, success in the early 60s like "Loco-Motion" and "One Fine Day," (through much of the book I'd blink and say, "I didn't know she wrote that one!") and professional growing pains. The threat of the British invasion - in particular bands who write their own material - is countered with King's association with Don Kirscher and a lucrative turn writing for The Monkees. I was a bit disappointed to see this era relegated to such a short chapter, as I've read in other books of tensions between Mike Nesmith and various songwriters. What valleys in her career and personal life King does share are done rather quickly.

The transition from cubicle songwriter to singer-songwriter and the classic Tapestry reads fast as well. It should be noted that King acknowledges in the beginning of her book that memory isn't as constant a companion as it used to be - indeed, her book reads like a chronological vignettes in short chapters. She jams with these artists, she meets James Taylor, she meets John and Yoko, etc. These bits of fascinating history weave into a (and please forgive this) tapestry of words and song lyrics.

I did come away from A Natural Woman with a greater appreciation of King's music, for others and her own work. I am reminded, too, that it's time to replace that worn cassette and add Tapestry to my iTunes roster. I did hope for more stories of the early part of King's career, but I did find this book a reference to a period of music history worth remembering.

Rating: B+

Kathryn Lively is a mystery author and book blogger.

The Wrecking Crew: The Inside Story of Rock and Roll's Best-Kept Secret by Kent Hartman

While searching for a Monkees biography for a timely review, this title popped up in the recommended widgets. I had known for some time that the Monkees did not play in the studio for their first two albums, and it occurred to me other groups of the day would have made use of studio musicians. That the majority of the best-known songs recorded during rock and roll's first few decades had been performed by a core group left me wanting to know more, and author Hartman's meticulous biography of "The Wrecking Crew" traces their history from the days when popular music shifted from deep-voiced crooning to raucous rockabilly and on through the eclectic seventies. Some names are familiar, others not so much, but in a way that is probably fitting, given that the music (no pun intended) seemed to take center stage.

Kent Hartman's account of this group's evolution in The Wrecking Crew (AMZ) puts focus on a number of players, some within the crew and others the peripheral movers in the music business who benefited from their skills. Some names may be familiar with students of early rock -- drummer Hal Blaine who coined the moniker, the lone female Carol Kaye, and the rare crossover success story, Glen Campbell. For much of the 50s through the 70s, when singing groups tended the dominate the charts more often than actual bands, the Wrecking Crew handled the majority of studio performances, including songs by Simon and Garfunkel, Sonny and Cher, The Beach Boys (some of the crew would actually tour as ersatz members), The Monkees, The Grass Roots, The Fifth Dimension, and so forth.

The Wrecking Crew presents the evolution of the rock era through a series of vignettes that paint a colorful picture of the industry -- from tales of Sonny Bono's ballsy maneuvering into the business to dealings with the enigmatic Brian Wilson. The book presents a most fascinating history.

Rating: A

Kathryn Lively is a mystery author and book blogger.