Runnin' With the Devil by Noel E. Monk

I asked for one thing for my 13th birthday, a copy of Van Halen's 1984. Until that album's release I wasn't a fan; I was drawn toward them when this particular album (and MTV) brought them deeper into the mainstream. I knew die-hard VH fans in school. One classmate owned a Velcro wallet with their logo, as though that certified his admiration. Me, I was caught up in the flotsam when Jump exploded and I figured this album was a good place to build a collection.

I didn't expect to get the album, so I was surprised to unwrap it, even more so when my Catholic father insisted we play the whole thing. Understand that my father was into Roy Orbison and Buck Owens, and I had no idea what other songs were featured on this record. It could have been Jump, Panama, and six songs about "doing it." But he liked Jump - the Chicago Cubs had adopted it as their intro music that summer, so we heard the song often. Days after learning of Eddie Van Halen's untimely departure, I'm reminded of sitting with my dad listening to Van Halen - a sweet and surreal memory given they left in the same year.

Since Eddie's death we're hearing all sorts of stories about him. Not being a student of Van Halen (yes, I've read two other books, but don't ask my COVID-addled brain to recall the content), I was surprised to hear of the moments of generosity toward fans and especially the bullying he and Alex suffered in high school. One has to wonder how many of those people would tell their children and co-workers, "Yeah, I went to high school with Eddie, we were tight!" Backstage antics, like those recounted in Runnin' With the Devil, present a picture of the band I can understand. Author Monk served first as VH's tour manager, then manager, during the initial Roth era, and published his story in 2017 once a moratorium on telling his side of things expired. His book came to me as part of a group read done in tribute to Eddie. 

As a tribute...well, it isn't. Runnin' is a raw history of Monk's involvement with Van Halen, peppered with a few confessional moments that have led to litigation if secrets spilled earlier. Mostly, though, the book talks about nailing bootleg shirt vendors, how much the band liked alcohol and drugs, and how Monk basically babysat a gaggle of badly behaving man-children. Most chapters end with an ominous prediction of the end, and in Monk's defense the band did him dirty. You read of Eddie's benevolence in giving his time to the Thriller album then in nearly the same breath cutting Michael Anthony out of the money, and I don't know what to say about his character. I imagine there was more going on behind the scenes, but the book doesn't reveal it.

I would have liked to read more about the band in the studio, and while Monk stresses most of the Roth-era albums were recorded in short time, that creative process is lost among tour stories, Roth's ego, and the brothers' drinking. There's entertainment value here, yes, but nothing I hadn't expected to read.

Rating: C

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

Slowhand: The Life and Music of Eric Clapton by Philip Norman

Some books challenge me when it comes time to review. One I face more often than others is grading the subject as opposed to grading the book itself. Books have the ability to change minds - a person may read the Bible or the witness of a saint and experience a spiritual awakening. A meat lover may read a book on veganism and feel inspired to change their diet. In the near decade since starting this blog, my opinions of certain people have altered thanks to these books.

Books have the power to inspire, shake people to the core, and change belief systems. When I picked up Slowhand a month before the lockdown began I wondered if such lightning would strike. After reading his ex-wife Pattie Boyd's memoir, every consequent mention of Eric Clapton spurred a fantasy of him being kicked in the balls repeatedly until he passed out.

Yeh, I'm not what you'd call a fan. I'm not saying he's not a good musician and not influential, but Clapton's history of treating women like garbage doesn't endear me to him. I will add, too, my opinions of other artists reviewed here have dimmed over time (cough*Hari) - thank you, books. As Philip Norman is one biographer I like to read, I wanted to see a neutral take on Clapton's life and see about a possible change of heart.

Six days and 400-odd pages later, I still want to kick Clapton in the privates. Yet, I also feel bad for him some respects...a bit. Norman's presentation of Clapton's story doesn't sanitize his reputation, nor does it vilify him. Slowhand spans from Clapton's illegitimate birth in Surrey on to a summarized career denouement in the early 00s. Clapton's early, slow rise to celebrity - colored by strained relationships with peers, unresolved familial strife, and drugs - through the "Tears in Heaven" climax comprise the meat of the book. Norman seems to favor gossipy history over details of Clapton's craft, however. You'll learn about a phenomenon coined the "Clapton Luck," which blesses the bio's subject every time he ends up in a sticky situation, be it a near-miss drug bust or most of his sexual liaisons that don't result in kids or crabs. In actuality, it may be more white privilege or the people around Clapton who spoiled/enabled him, but sure, let's go with luck.

Of the Norman-penned bios I've read, I wouldn't rank this one the highest. I still intend to read his Jagger book, so we'll see where that one falls in rank.

Rating: B-