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.

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.