Open Book by Jessica Simpson

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rating: B

Anthem: Rush in the '70s by Martin Popoff

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rating: B

Idol Reading: Elton John and Leif Garrett

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

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

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