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- 

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