(hb; 2013: autobiography)
From the inside flap:
"The high octane, no-holds-barred memoir by the legendary godfather of industrial music and Ministry founder Al Jourgensen . . . is both ugly and captivating, revealing a character who has lived a hard life his way, without compromise. Al Jourgensen, one of the most innovative and prolific artists to pick up a guitar, a mandolin, harmonica, or banjo, or to sit at a 90-channel SSI console, wanted to be a musician, yet became a rock star. And fame and fortune almost killed him. An IV drug abuser from the age of 15, Jourgensen delved deeper into heroin, cocaine and methadone and alcohol for 22 years before cleaning up, straightening out, and finding new reasons to live.
"During his career, Jourgensen has explored multiple avenues of electronic, industrial, metal, punk and even country music with Ministry, The Revolting Cocks, Lard, and others. Along the way he engaged in all of the rock 'n' roll clichés regarding decadence and debauchery. . . Despite his addiction and debauchery, he created seven seminal albums, including the hugely influential classics: 1988's The Land of Rape and Honey, 1989's The Mind is a Terrible Thing to Taste, and 1992's platinum blockbuster Psalm 69: The Way to Succeed & The Way to Suck Eggs. . ."
Review:
This is one of my all-time favorite rock biographies. Jourgensen, with the help of co-author Wiederhorn, tells his life story in an unapologetic, no-bullcrap manner, with lots of raunchy verve, humor and self-aware observations (this latter element is something that many people seem to lack in their day-to-day lives). This adds zing to this fast-moving book, which is one of the rawest, craziest autobiographies I've read.
There will likely be some tempest-in-tea-cup controversies regarding Ministry: Jourgensen not only dishes dirt about himself, but those around him - Robert Plant, Ice-T, William S. Burroughs, Henry Rollins, R. Kelly, Trent Reznor, Jello Biafra, Timothy Leary, and others, including his longtime bandmate Paul Barker.
There's lots to laugh at, lots to be horrified by and lots to admire here; if you're a fan of rock/music autobiographies, pick this up. You may not want to hang around Jourgensen when he's in full-tilt crazy mode, but he tells smart - if especially dark - entertaining stories.
Ministry is worth owning if you're not easily offended and easily grossed out, a member of the Grammar Police, or expecting detailed explanations of where some of your (possibly) favorite songs came from.
Showing posts with label drug addiction memoirs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label drug addiction memoirs. Show all posts
Friday, February 28, 2014
Tuesday, January 03, 2012
Wishful Drinking, by Carrie Fisher
(hb; 2008: memoir)
From the inside flap:
". . . In Wishful Drinking, adapted from her one-woman show, Fisher reveals what it was really like to grow up a product of 'Hollywood in-breeding,' come of age on the set of a little movie called Star Wars, and become a cultural icon and bestselling action figure at the age of nineteen.
". . . Wishful Drinking is Fisher, looking at her life as she best remembers it (what do you expect after electroshock therapy?). It's an incredible tale: the child of Hollywood royalty - Debbie Reynolds and Eddie Fisher - homewrecked by Elizabeth Taylor, marrying (then divorcing, then dating) Paul Simon, having her likeness merchandised on eerything from Princess Leia shampoo to PEZ dispensers, learning that the father of her daughter forgot to tell her he was gay, and ultimately waking up one morning and finding a friend dead beside her in bed."
Review:
Hilarious, admirably entertaining and breezy read about what could have been a dark, sad read about a likewise life: lifelong (and often surreal) fame, bipolar depression, drug addiction, sexual/romantic confusion (in her choice of date mates), and other, in her words, "f**ked up" stuff.
Good, word sly and often sarcastic read, this.
Wednesday, July 06, 2011
Not Dead & Not For Sale, by Scott Weiland with David Ritz
(hb; 2011: rock 'n' roll memoir)
From the inside flap:
"In the early 1990s, Stone Temple Pilots. . . [aka STP] toppled such megabands as Aerosmith and Guns N' Roses on MTV and the Billboard charts. Lead singer Scott Weiland became an iconic front man in the tradition of Mick Jagger, David Bowie and Robert Plant.
"Then, when STP imploded, it was Weiland who emerged as the emblem of rock star excess, with his well-publicized drug busts and trips to rehab. Weiland has since made a series of stunning comebacks, fronting the supergroup Velvet Revolver, releasing solo work, and, most recently, reuniting with Stone Temple Pilots. He still struggles with the bottle, but he has prevailed as a loving, dedicated father, as well as a business-savvy artist whose well of creativity is far from empty.
"These earthling papers explore Weiland's early years as an altar boy right along with his first experiences with sex and drugs. Weiland discusses his complex relationships with his parents, stepfather, siblings, and the love of his life, Mary Forsberg Weiland. Readers learn the. .. stories behind his most well-known songs and what it was like to be there at the beginning of the grunge phenomenon, as Rolling Stone proclaimed on its cover: 'the year punk broke.'"
Review:
Barebones, hard-to-set-down memoir about a rock 'n' roller who gives a taut, heartfelt but drama-free presentation of his up-and-down life. He doesn't try to excuse his drug addictions or misbehavior, though he does occasionally, briefly explain his mindset at said life junctures.
Good, entertaining, non-dirt-dishing and often inspiring read about a sincere and creative individual.
Check it out.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
I Am Ozzy, by Ozzy Osbourne with Chris Ayres
(hb; 2010: autobiography)
From the inside flap:
" 'They've said some crazy things about me over the years. I mean, okay: 'He bit the head off a bat.' Yes. 'He bit the head off a dove.' Yes. But then you hear things like 'Ozzy went to the show last night, but he wouldn't perform until he'd killed fifteen puppies. . .' Now me, kill fifteen puppies? I love puppies. I've got eighteen of the f*cking things at home. I've killed a few cows in my time, mind you. And the chickens. I shot the chickens in my house that night.
"It haunts me, all this crazy stuff. Every day of my life has been an event. I took lethal combinations of booze and drugs for thirty f*cking years. I survived a direct hit by a plane, suicidal overdoses, STDs. I've been accused of murder. Then I almost died while riding over a bump on quad bike at f*cking two miles per hour.
"People ask me how come I'm still alive, and I don't know what to say. When I was growing up, if you'd have put me against a wall with the other kids from my street and asked me which one of us was gonna make it to the age of sixty, which one of us would end up with five kids and four grandkids and houses in Buckinghamshire and Beverly Hills, I wouldn't have put money on me, no f*cking way. But here I am: ready to tell my story, in my own words, for the first time.
"A lot of it ain't gonna be pretty. I've done some bad things in my time. I've always been drawn to the dark side, me. But I ain't the devil. I'm just John Osbourne: a working-class kid from Aston, who quit his job in the factory and went looking for a good time."
Review:
Entertaining autobiography whose often funny, word-deft pace both respects and fast-tracks the surreal depths and vertexes of Osbourne's small town/rock n' roll life and demons (self-doubt, booze, drugs, infidelity, etc.).
This is a darkly hilarious, relatable and unflinchingly honest rock n' roll history lesson and caveat.
Check this out.
From the inside flap:
" 'They've said some crazy things about me over the years. I mean, okay: 'He bit the head off a bat.' Yes. 'He bit the head off a dove.' Yes. But then you hear things like 'Ozzy went to the show last night, but he wouldn't perform until he'd killed fifteen puppies. . .' Now me, kill fifteen puppies? I love puppies. I've got eighteen of the f*cking things at home. I've killed a few cows in my time, mind you. And the chickens. I shot the chickens in my house that night.
"It haunts me, all this crazy stuff. Every day of my life has been an event. I took lethal combinations of booze and drugs for thirty f*cking years. I survived a direct hit by a plane, suicidal overdoses, STDs. I've been accused of murder. Then I almost died while riding over a bump on quad bike at f*cking two miles per hour.
"People ask me how come I'm still alive, and I don't know what to say. When I was growing up, if you'd have put me against a wall with the other kids from my street and asked me which one of us was gonna make it to the age of sixty, which one of us would end up with five kids and four grandkids and houses in Buckinghamshire and Beverly Hills, I wouldn't have put money on me, no f*cking way. But here I am: ready to tell my story, in my own words, for the first time.
"A lot of it ain't gonna be pretty. I've done some bad things in my time. I've always been drawn to the dark side, me. But I ain't the devil. I'm just John Osbourne: a working-class kid from Aston, who quit his job in the factory and went looking for a good time."
Review:
Entertaining autobiography whose often funny, word-deft pace both respects and fast-tracks the surreal depths and vertexes of Osbourne's small town/rock n' roll life and demons (self-doubt, booze, drugs, infidelity, etc.).
This is a darkly hilarious, relatable and unflinchingly honest rock n' roll history lesson and caveat.
Check this out.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Queer, by William S. Burroughs
(pb; 1985: sequel to Junky)
Review:
Queer was written shortly after the publication of its source novel, but Queer wasn't published until almost thirty years later. Publishers weren't interested in it, "although Junky sold well" (by publishing standards).
Queer picks up where Junky left off.
Lee now lives in Mexico, where his G.I. Bill money keeps him financially afloat, floating between local bars, hoping to score junk (but largely not succeeding) and securing companionship (carnal or otherwise). He's lonely, but he can't return to America, where a long prison stretch (stemming from drug charges detailed in Junky) awaits.
When ranconteur, bleak-humored Lee meets a pretty young man, Eugene Allerton, he falls for Allerton hard, even though he knows Allerton is using him as a sugar daddy. It's a slow, depressing, finance-minded affair that becomes nakedly businesslike when Lee invites the tactiturn, equally self-absorbed Allerton to travel to the Amazon jungle (specifically, the town of Puyo) with him, to find a mystical hallucinogen ("Yage. . . Bannisteria caapi").
Throughout Queer, Burroughs maintains the edgy, bleak tone of Junky, but this time out the structure is less rigid, sometimes rambly (interspersed with strange jokes, outbursts of human warmth, and abrupt social departures).
As Burroughs notes in his 1985 introduction to Queer, "In. . . Junky, the protagonist 'Lee' comes across as integrated and self-contained, sure of himself and where he is going. In Queer, he is disintegrated, desperately in need of contact, completely unsure of himself and his purpose."
Queer is an outgoing juxtaposition to Junky, a worthwhile sequel that shows the other side of Burroughs's heroin-laced coin; that is, taken together, these two books form a fuller portrait of a man maturing, facing larger -- often harsher -- veracities.
Check these two books out.
Review:
Queer was written shortly after the publication of its source novel, but Queer wasn't published until almost thirty years later. Publishers weren't interested in it, "although Junky sold well" (by publishing standards).
Queer picks up where Junky left off.
Lee now lives in Mexico, where his G.I. Bill money keeps him financially afloat, floating between local bars, hoping to score junk (but largely not succeeding) and securing companionship (carnal or otherwise). He's lonely, but he can't return to America, where a long prison stretch (stemming from drug charges detailed in Junky) awaits.
When ranconteur, bleak-humored Lee meets a pretty young man, Eugene Allerton, he falls for Allerton hard, even though he knows Allerton is using him as a sugar daddy. It's a slow, depressing, finance-minded affair that becomes nakedly businesslike when Lee invites the tactiturn, equally self-absorbed Allerton to travel to the Amazon jungle (specifically, the town of Puyo) with him, to find a mystical hallucinogen ("Yage. . . Bannisteria caapi").
Throughout Queer, Burroughs maintains the edgy, bleak tone of Junky, but this time out the structure is less rigid, sometimes rambly (interspersed with strange jokes, outbursts of human warmth, and abrupt social departures).
As Burroughs notes in his 1985 introduction to Queer, "In. . . Junky, the protagonist 'Lee' comes across as integrated and self-contained, sure of himself and where he is going. In Queer, he is disintegrated, desperately in need of contact, completely unsure of himself and his purpose."
Queer is an outgoing juxtaposition to Junky, a worthwhile sequel that shows the other side of Burroughs's heroin-laced coin; that is, taken together, these two books form a fuller portrait of a man maturing, facing larger -- often harsher -- veracities.
Check these two books out.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Hit Hard, by Joey Kramer with William Patrick & Keith Garde
(hb; 2009: memoir/autobiography. Introduction by Nikki Sixx)
From the inside flap:
"In 1997, amid Aerosmith's sold-out world tour and number one album release, word about Joey's troubles was reported in the press. Despite the advice he had received to play it down, Joey revealed in an interview his ongoing struggles with depression. The response from fans and people battling those same internal demons was overwhelming. Joey -- who has been the drummer in Aerosmith since it was founded in 1970 and is the first member of the band to release his own book -- now tells the complete story: the early days of the band, glamorous drug-addled events leading up to their eventual sobriety, battles within his family and among bandmates, and the explosive internal dynamics in Aerosmith that continue to unleash a fury of endless creativity.
"This is not just another rock n' roll memoir. In addition to the never-before-told Aerosmith war stories that abound in the book, Hit Hard unpacks the history of a rock star who was both fragile and tough, who, after years of insane wildness, became willing to accept help and finally kick a serious alcohol and drug addiction, only to find that the real terrors and hard work were still ahead. It's the story of an average kid from an average American suburb who went through physical and emotional trauma. It's about years of depression and the nervous breakdown at the height of the band's comeback success. Ultimately, Hit Hard is about how Joey recognized his confusion between love and abuse, awakening to the kind of self-acceptance and compassion that make relationships possible in the 'real world' as a member of the biggest band in American history."
Review:
Straightforward, no-frills memoir/autobiography.
Kramer, Patrick and Garde write about: Kramer's Bronx childhood in the Fifties, born to a tough, emotionally-stilted father and strict mother; how, early on, he discovered rock n' roll, and later, r&b and other styles of drumming; about how he and rock drummer/singer Steven Tallarico (later named Steven Tyler) grew up in nearby neighborhoods, and met at key moments in both their lives; and how Kramer, over the course of thirty-plus years, overcame a cycle of depression and emotional abuse (at the hands of his father, Steven Tyler, and ex-wife April) to finally become a stronger, sober musician and man.
Kramer and his co-authors don't skimp on the main selling point of the book (Aerosmith's media-fabled chemical and musical decadence), nor do they make these already-chronicled years the main point of the book, which sets this apart from other rock/drug-addiction memoirs.
The closest memoir I've read of this sort is Nikki Sixx's The Heroin Diaries; fittingly, Sixx provides a thoughtful, punkish Introduction to the book. As Sixx writes in his Introduction: "Joey had the balls to see what's underneath the hood, and fix it. Being a rock star was easy compared to that."
Solid, don't-rush-to-read memoir about one man's emotional maturation, from youth to middle age. Any readers seeking salacious and scandalous books about Aerosmith might want to check other tell-alls about the band.
From the inside flap:
"In 1997, amid Aerosmith's sold-out world tour and number one album release, word about Joey's troubles was reported in the press. Despite the advice he had received to play it down, Joey revealed in an interview his ongoing struggles with depression. The response from fans and people battling those same internal demons was overwhelming. Joey -- who has been the drummer in Aerosmith since it was founded in 1970 and is the first member of the band to release his own book -- now tells the complete story: the early days of the band, glamorous drug-addled events leading up to their eventual sobriety, battles within his family and among bandmates, and the explosive internal dynamics in Aerosmith that continue to unleash a fury of endless creativity.
"This is not just another rock n' roll memoir. In addition to the never-before-told Aerosmith war stories that abound in the book, Hit Hard unpacks the history of a rock star who was both fragile and tough, who, after years of insane wildness, became willing to accept help and finally kick a serious alcohol and drug addiction, only to find that the real terrors and hard work were still ahead. It's the story of an average kid from an average American suburb who went through physical and emotional trauma. It's about years of depression and the nervous breakdown at the height of the band's comeback success. Ultimately, Hit Hard is about how Joey recognized his confusion between love and abuse, awakening to the kind of self-acceptance and compassion that make relationships possible in the 'real world' as a member of the biggest band in American history."
Review:
Straightforward, no-frills memoir/autobiography.
Kramer, Patrick and Garde write about: Kramer's Bronx childhood in the Fifties, born to a tough, emotionally-stilted father and strict mother; how, early on, he discovered rock n' roll, and later, r&b and other styles of drumming; about how he and rock drummer/singer Steven Tallarico (later named Steven Tyler) grew up in nearby neighborhoods, and met at key moments in both their lives; and how Kramer, over the course of thirty-plus years, overcame a cycle of depression and emotional abuse (at the hands of his father, Steven Tyler, and ex-wife April) to finally become a stronger, sober musician and man.
Kramer and his co-authors don't skimp on the main selling point of the book (Aerosmith's media-fabled chemical and musical decadence), nor do they make these already-chronicled years the main point of the book, which sets this apart from other rock/drug-addiction memoirs.
The closest memoir I've read of this sort is Nikki Sixx's The Heroin Diaries; fittingly, Sixx provides a thoughtful, punkish Introduction to the book. As Sixx writes in his Introduction: "Joey had the balls to see what's underneath the hood, and fix it. Being a rock star was easy compared to that."
Solid, don't-rush-to-read memoir about one man's emotional maturation, from youth to middle age. Any readers seeking salacious and scandalous books about Aerosmith might want to check other tell-alls about the band.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
In My Skin, by Kate Holden
(hb; 2005: memoir)
From the inside flap:
"A shy, bookish college graduate, a nice girl from a solid middle-class home but uncertain of her way in life, Kate Holden tried her first hit of heroin as a one-time experiment, an adventure with friends, but the drug took over. Hooked, she lost her job, her apartment, stole from her family. Desperation drove her onto the streets, where she became 'Lucy,' offering her body for cash to the first car to stop, risking arrest, and worse, the human predators -- anything for her next fix. With her name on the police blotter, she left the streets and offered her services to first one, then another high-class brothel, where she discovered hidden strengths, as well as parts of herself that frightened her.
"Throughout, however hurt and dismayed, her family never abandoned her, and their acceptance and unyielding love helped her defeat the drug and leave her netherworld behind..."
Review:
Smart, concise and sensory-intense memoir about the author's five-year addiction to heroin, how she worked as a prostitute (on the streets, later in brothels) during that time, and how she eventually, with support from her family, quit both. The sexual bits are descriptive at times, but not lascivious -- they're simply honest, maintaining the same level-headed tone as the rest of the book.
Interesting read, this, as well as a potent cautionary tale for anyone who's ever considered using junk.
Check this out!
From the inside flap:
"A shy, bookish college graduate, a nice girl from a solid middle-class home but uncertain of her way in life, Kate Holden tried her first hit of heroin as a one-time experiment, an adventure with friends, but the drug took over. Hooked, she lost her job, her apartment, stole from her family. Desperation drove her onto the streets, where she became 'Lucy,' offering her body for cash to the first car to stop, risking arrest, and worse, the human predators -- anything for her next fix. With her name on the police blotter, she left the streets and offered her services to first one, then another high-class brothel, where she discovered hidden strengths, as well as parts of herself that frightened her.
"Throughout, however hurt and dismayed, her family never abandoned her, and their acceptance and unyielding love helped her defeat the drug and leave her netherworld behind..."
Review:
Smart, concise and sensory-intense memoir about the author's five-year addiction to heroin, how she worked as a prostitute (on the streets, later in brothels) during that time, and how she eventually, with support from her family, quit both. The sexual bits are descriptive at times, but not lascivious -- they're simply honest, maintaining the same level-headed tone as the rest of the book.
Interesting read, this, as well as a potent cautionary tale for anyone who's ever considered using junk.
Check this out!
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
Junky, by William S. Burroughs
(pb; 1953: prequel to Queer)
This stark, semi-autobiographical account of a post-World War II bisexual heroin junkie is one of Burroughs's best, and most blunt, works. Written under the pseudonym William Lee, the low-life elements of Burroughs's/Lee's thinly-fictionalized experiences (drug addiction, being a fugitive from the law) are off-set by obviously-educated, minutiae-rich observations about living on "junk time," as well as his repeated, failed attempts to kick the life-draining habit for good.
Harrowing, bold, unforgettable book. It's a grim 158 pages, but its perfectly-telescoped and -honed writing, with its semi-cliffhanger-ish finish, makes this stand out from other drug-addiction memoirs that currently clog bookshelves.
Followed by Queer.
This stark, semi-autobiographical account of a post-World War II bisexual heroin junkie is one of Burroughs's best, and most blunt, works. Written under the pseudonym William Lee, the low-life elements of Burroughs's/Lee's thinly-fictionalized experiences (drug addiction, being a fugitive from the law) are off-set by obviously-educated, minutiae-rich observations about living on "junk time," as well as his repeated, failed attempts to kick the life-draining habit for good.
Harrowing, bold, unforgettable book. It's a grim 158 pages, but its perfectly-telescoped and -honed writing, with its semi-cliffhanger-ish finish, makes this stand out from other drug-addiction memoirs that currently clog bookshelves.
Followed by Queer.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Lobotomy: Surviving the Ramones, by Dee Dee Ramone with Veronica Kaufman
(pb; 1997, 2000: autobiography)
From the back cover:
"Lobotomy is the most lurid and unlikely temperance tract yet from the underbelly of rock 'n' roll. On a wild rollercoaster ride from his f**ked-up childhood in Berlin and Munich to his lonely, methadone-quaffing stay at a cheap hotel in Earl's Court and newfound peace on the straight and narrow, Dee Dee Ramone catapults us into the raw world of sex, addiction, and two-minute songs. It isn't pretty. With the velocity of a Ramones song, Lobotomy rockets through headlining days at CBGB's to the breakup of the Ramones' happy family with an unrelenting backbeat of hate and squalor: His girlfriend ODs; running buddy Johnny Thunders steals his ode to heroin, 'Chinese Rocks'; Sid Vicious shoots up using toilet water; and a pistol-wielding Phil Spector holds the band hostage in Beverly Hills. Hey! Ho! Let's go!"
Review:
Born to a German ex-go-go-dancer and an American Army soldier (who was twenty-one years older than his wife) in 1951, Douglas Colvin -- who later, in his teens, would become Dee Dee Ramone -- had a rough life. Both his parents were raging alcoholics, his father more physically abusive than his nutso mother. A sensitive, hyperactive kid, he was shooting heroin by his early teens, while revering bands like The Beatles (Colvin took his later name, Ramone, from Paul McCartney's early non de plume, Paul Ramone), the Troggs, the Kinks, The Beach Boys, the Small Faces, The Hollies, the Walker Brothers, The Who, and the Rolling Stones.
When his mother finally left his father in the mid- to late-Sixties, Dee moved to Queens, New York, with his mother and his younger sister, Beverly. Forest Hills, Queens, was just as rough as Pirmasens, Germany, in a different way: it was there that Dee discovered the Stooges, and the New York Dolls.
It wasn't long before Dee befriended, and banded with, Joey (who initially was the Ramones' drummer, but later became lead vocalist) and Johnny (guitar). After a few line-up changes, the Ramones -- whose members adopted the surname "Ramone" -- were: Joey (vocals), Tommy (drums), Johnny (guitarist), and Dee (bass). It wasn't long before they were playing gigs, alongside up-&-coming bands like Blondie. Initially, they didn't know much about being musicians: Dee didn't even know how to tune a guitar, or read sheet music. As Dee writes, they were all social misfits, f**k-ups, who somehow, over time, became cool.
Tommy Ramone, their drummer, who was tired of the rock 'n' roll life, left the band after the Ramones' third album, Rocket to Russia (1977). He was replaced by hard-partying, volatile Marc Bell (aka, "Marky Ramone").
According to Dee, life in the Ramones was less fun than it seemed. Their tour manager, Monte Melnick, along with Johnny Ramone, pretty much told the other Ramones what to do. And all of them liked to party hard -- Dee and Marc, especially. (In later years, Joey became an out-of-control alcoholic.) Dee, who wrote or co-wrote a good number of the band's songs, often felt like he was being bossed around by those who were doing the least amount of work. Yet, for all their neuroses and faults, they complemented each other musically: when one member had a problem finishing a song -- whether it was writer's block, or a lack of musical expertise -- one or several of the other Ramones could step in and help the first member finish it. They were "bruddas," as Dee repeatedly writes, tight and dysfunctional as any crazy family.
Dee left the band in 1989, shortly after the release of their Brain Drain album. He'd been in The Ramones for seventeen years. During all of that time, he'd been a miserable junkie, trapped by fame -- it was terrifying to encounter many of the band's "fans," and he was constantly bullied by the other band members. Shortly before he left The Ramones, he recorded a rock-rap album called Standing in the Spotlight under the name Dee Dee King, which alienated his bandmates (they thought Ramones fans would hate it). The solo album sold well, and received favorable reviews from many music critics.
CJ Ramone became The Ramones' bassist, while Dee wandered through a mid-life drug haze. He was aware that he needed to stop using heroin, but his own personality -- as well as other druggies around him -- thwarted his efforts. During this brief period, a good number of his friends died, among them: Stiv Bator (former lead singer of The Dead Boys, and The Lords of the New Church), when he was hit by a taxi in Paris, France; guitarist Johnny Thunders, when he was murdered while tripping on LSD; and Dee Dee's longtime ex-girlfriend, Connie (a stripper/prostitute and fellow junkie), who OD'd.
Dee also started a band in Detroit, Michigan, called The Chinese Dragons, which was a moderate success, and, according to Dee, a joyous, bluesy rock 'n' roll experience.
The book's ending isn't fairy-tale-happy, but it is sober (as in: Dee is drug-free) and funny, in a f**ked-up way.
The writing throughout is conversational, and darkly funny, even when the told circumstances of Dee's life are completely crappy. This is a fun read, if you have an appreciation for wow-that's-f**ked-up sense of humor.
*Post-book facts:
Dee Dee Ramone released another solo album, Latest & Greatest, in 2001.
In 2002, Dee Dee, along with his fellow Ramones, was inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. According to imdb.com, "less than two months after his induction, [Dee Dee] was found dead in his house by his wife [of seven years]," Barbara Zampini. The (somewhat fitting, yet ironic) cause: "accidental drug overdose. . . He was 50 at the time of his death."
From the back cover:
"Lobotomy is the most lurid and unlikely temperance tract yet from the underbelly of rock 'n' roll. On a wild rollercoaster ride from his f**ked-up childhood in Berlin and Munich to his lonely, methadone-quaffing stay at a cheap hotel in Earl's Court and newfound peace on the straight and narrow, Dee Dee Ramone catapults us into the raw world of sex, addiction, and two-minute songs. It isn't pretty. With the velocity of a Ramones song, Lobotomy rockets through headlining days at CBGB's to the breakup of the Ramones' happy family with an unrelenting backbeat of hate and squalor: His girlfriend ODs; running buddy Johnny Thunders steals his ode to heroin, 'Chinese Rocks'; Sid Vicious shoots up using toilet water; and a pistol-wielding Phil Spector holds the band hostage in Beverly Hills. Hey! Ho! Let's go!"
Review:
Born to a German ex-go-go-dancer and an American Army soldier (who was twenty-one years older than his wife) in 1951, Douglas Colvin -- who later, in his teens, would become Dee Dee Ramone -- had a rough life. Both his parents were raging alcoholics, his father more physically abusive than his nutso mother. A sensitive, hyperactive kid, he was shooting heroin by his early teens, while revering bands like The Beatles (Colvin took his later name, Ramone, from Paul McCartney's early non de plume, Paul Ramone), the Troggs, the Kinks, The Beach Boys, the Small Faces, The Hollies, the Walker Brothers, The Who, and the Rolling Stones.
When his mother finally left his father in the mid- to late-Sixties, Dee moved to Queens, New York, with his mother and his younger sister, Beverly. Forest Hills, Queens, was just as rough as Pirmasens, Germany, in a different way: it was there that Dee discovered the Stooges, and the New York Dolls.
It wasn't long before Dee befriended, and banded with, Joey (who initially was the Ramones' drummer, but later became lead vocalist) and Johnny (guitar). After a few line-up changes, the Ramones -- whose members adopted the surname "Ramone" -- were: Joey (vocals), Tommy (drums), Johnny (guitarist), and Dee (bass). It wasn't long before they were playing gigs, alongside up-&-coming bands like Blondie. Initially, they didn't know much about being musicians: Dee didn't even know how to tune a guitar, or read sheet music. As Dee writes, they were all social misfits, f**k-ups, who somehow, over time, became cool.
Tommy Ramone, their drummer, who was tired of the rock 'n' roll life, left the band after the Ramones' third album, Rocket to Russia (1977). He was replaced by hard-partying, volatile Marc Bell (aka, "Marky Ramone").
According to Dee, life in the Ramones was less fun than it seemed. Their tour manager, Monte Melnick, along with Johnny Ramone, pretty much told the other Ramones what to do. And all of them liked to party hard -- Dee and Marc, especially. (In later years, Joey became an out-of-control alcoholic.) Dee, who wrote or co-wrote a good number of the band's songs, often felt like he was being bossed around by those who were doing the least amount of work. Yet, for all their neuroses and faults, they complemented each other musically: when one member had a problem finishing a song -- whether it was writer's block, or a lack of musical expertise -- one or several of the other Ramones could step in and help the first member finish it. They were "bruddas," as Dee repeatedly writes, tight and dysfunctional as any crazy family.
Dee left the band in 1989, shortly after the release of their Brain Drain album. He'd been in The Ramones for seventeen years. During all of that time, he'd been a miserable junkie, trapped by fame -- it was terrifying to encounter many of the band's "fans," and he was constantly bullied by the other band members. Shortly before he left The Ramones, he recorded a rock-rap album called Standing in the Spotlight under the name Dee Dee King, which alienated his bandmates (they thought Ramones fans would hate it). The solo album sold well, and received favorable reviews from many music critics.
CJ Ramone became The Ramones' bassist, while Dee wandered through a mid-life drug haze. He was aware that he needed to stop using heroin, but his own personality -- as well as other druggies around him -- thwarted his efforts. During this brief period, a good number of his friends died, among them: Stiv Bator (former lead singer of The Dead Boys, and The Lords of the New Church), when he was hit by a taxi in Paris, France; guitarist Johnny Thunders, when he was murdered while tripping on LSD; and Dee Dee's longtime ex-girlfriend, Connie (a stripper/prostitute and fellow junkie), who OD'd.
Dee also started a band in Detroit, Michigan, called The Chinese Dragons, which was a moderate success, and, according to Dee, a joyous, bluesy rock 'n' roll experience.
The book's ending isn't fairy-tale-happy, but it is sober (as in: Dee is drug-free) and funny, in a f**ked-up way.
The writing throughout is conversational, and darkly funny, even when the told circumstances of Dee's life are completely crappy. This is a fun read, if you have an appreciation for wow-that's-f**ked-up sense of humor.
*Post-book facts:
Dee Dee Ramone released another solo album, Latest & Greatest, in 2001.
In 2002, Dee Dee, along with his fellow Ramones, was inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. According to imdb.com, "less than two months after his induction, [Dee Dee] was found dead in his house by his wife [of seven years]," Barbara Zampini. The (somewhat fitting, yet ironic) cause: "accidental drug overdose. . . He was 50 at the time of his death."
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
The Heroin Diaries: A Year in the Life of a Shattered Rock Star, by Nikki Sixx & Ian Gittins
(hb; 2007: memoir)
From the inside flap:
"When Mötley Crüe was at the height of its fame, there wasn't any drug that Nikki Sixx wouldn't do. He spent days -- sometimes alone, sometimes with other addicts, friends and lovers -- ina coke- and heroin-fueled daze. The highs were high, and Nikki's journal entries reveal some euphoria and joy. But the lows were lower, often ending with Nikki in the closet, surrounded by drug paraphernelia and wrapped in paranoid delusions.
"Here, Nikki shares those diary entries -- some poetic, some scatterbrained, some bizarre -- and reflects on that time. Joining him are Tommy Lee, Vince Neil, Mick Mars, Slash, Rick Nielsen, Bob Rock, and a host of ex-managers, ex-lovers, and more."
Review:
Like The Dirt, The Heroin Diaries is sordid, raw, shockingly funny and cruel. It has a more personal element as its focus is on one person -- Nikki Sixx, born Frank Ferrano, the one-time fifteen-year old kid who heard Alice Cooper's "Welcome to My Nightmare" and the Stooges' "Search and Destroy," two songs which not only inspired Ferrano/Sixx, but also "predicted" his future, as well.
The diary entries run from December 25, 1986, when Sixx had already been a junkie for a year, to December 23, 1987, when he overdosed -- was clinically dead for several minutes -- for the second time.
As a read, this is a burn-through. I read the 413-page glossy-paged book in one three-hour sitting: there are few lulls in the fractured narrative, and while Sixx, or Sikki (Nikki's self-named Hyde junkie persona), often appears excessively cruel for the sh*t he did, he's also strangely relatable in his remorse, which never comes off as bathetic. Rather, he comes off as an angry immature kid who got rich and famous too soon, and wanted, in part, to emulate one of his nihlistic musical heroes, Sid Vicious (bassist for The Sex Pistols, who died of a heroin overdose, after killing his girlfriend, Nancy Spungen).
He almost got that wish -- minus the drug skank murder -- twice.
Other voices (his bandmates, friends) are liberally sprinkled throughout the diaries -- punctuating this tawdry, often acerbic book with post-diary reality checks that Sixx clearly didn't want to acknowledge back then. They're welcome additions, balancing out Sixx's chemical and sexual manias with wisdom and recollections that only age can deliver.
The only time Sixx and Gittins stumble are when they allow Evangelist Denise Matthews (aka, Vanity, aka one-time girlfriend to Prince and divinity-obsessed crackhead) to put her two cents in. While her "recollections" don't run very long (they span less than three paragraphs, usually), they read more like denials, like "hey, I don't remember that stuff, I only know God now." Putting her in there once would've sufficed; more than that only slowed down -- albeit briefly -- the written unfolding of Sixx's 1986-7 reality.
At the end of the book, Sixx provides a timeline to, and comments about, his current life/style. It's sweet at times, but not woosy, and clearly age has done wonders for Sixx, who's still self-admittedly a f***-up, but a smarter, kinder one.
The book's design/artwork looks like it was done by the same guy who used to work with Hunter S. Thompson. It's spectacular, and crazy-bloody graphic.
Anybody who's curious about what heroin is like should read this. (This is Sixx's stated reason for publishing this -- as a warning to anybody who's thinking of trying heroin.)
Worth your time, this.
From the inside flap:
"When Mötley Crüe was at the height of its fame, there wasn't any drug that Nikki Sixx wouldn't do. He spent days -- sometimes alone, sometimes with other addicts, friends and lovers -- ina coke- and heroin-fueled daze. The highs were high, and Nikki's journal entries reveal some euphoria and joy. But the lows were lower, often ending with Nikki in the closet, surrounded by drug paraphernelia and wrapped in paranoid delusions.
"Here, Nikki shares those diary entries -- some poetic, some scatterbrained, some bizarre -- and reflects on that time. Joining him are Tommy Lee, Vince Neil, Mick Mars, Slash, Rick Nielsen, Bob Rock, and a host of ex-managers, ex-lovers, and more."
Review:
Like The Dirt, The Heroin Diaries is sordid, raw, shockingly funny and cruel. It has a more personal element as its focus is on one person -- Nikki Sixx, born Frank Ferrano, the one-time fifteen-year old kid who heard Alice Cooper's "Welcome to My Nightmare" and the Stooges' "Search and Destroy," two songs which not only inspired Ferrano/Sixx, but also "predicted" his future, as well.
The diary entries run from December 25, 1986, when Sixx had already been a junkie for a year, to December 23, 1987, when he overdosed -- was clinically dead for several minutes -- for the second time.
As a read, this is a burn-through. I read the 413-page glossy-paged book in one three-hour sitting: there are few lulls in the fractured narrative, and while Sixx, or Sikki (Nikki's self-named Hyde junkie persona), often appears excessively cruel for the sh*t he did, he's also strangely relatable in his remorse, which never comes off as bathetic. Rather, he comes off as an angry immature kid who got rich and famous too soon, and wanted, in part, to emulate one of his nihlistic musical heroes, Sid Vicious (bassist for The Sex Pistols, who died of a heroin overdose, after killing his girlfriend, Nancy Spungen).
He almost got that wish -- minus the drug skank murder -- twice.
Other voices (his bandmates, friends) are liberally sprinkled throughout the diaries -- punctuating this tawdry, often acerbic book with post-diary reality checks that Sixx clearly didn't want to acknowledge back then. They're welcome additions, balancing out Sixx's chemical and sexual manias with wisdom and recollections that only age can deliver.
The only time Sixx and Gittins stumble are when they allow Evangelist Denise Matthews (aka, Vanity, aka one-time girlfriend to Prince and divinity-obsessed crackhead) to put her two cents in. While her "recollections" don't run very long (they span less than three paragraphs, usually), they read more like denials, like "hey, I don't remember that stuff, I only know God now." Putting her in there once would've sufficed; more than that only slowed down -- albeit briefly -- the written unfolding of Sixx's 1986-7 reality.
At the end of the book, Sixx provides a timeline to, and comments about, his current life/style. It's sweet at times, but not woosy, and clearly age has done wonders for Sixx, who's still self-admittedly a f***-up, but a smarter, kinder one.
The book's design/artwork looks like it was done by the same guy who used to work with Hunter S. Thompson. It's spectacular, and crazy-bloody graphic.
Anybody who's curious about what heroin is like should read this. (This is Sixx's stated reason for publishing this -- as a warning to anybody who's thinking of trying heroin.)
Worth your time, this.
Monday, December 18, 2006
Mötley Crüe: The Dirt, by Mötley Crüe & Neil Strauss
(pb; 2001: non-fiction)
Review:
Mötley Crűe – made up of bassist Nikki Sixx, drummer Tommy Lee, guitarist Mick Mars, and vocalist Vince Neil – were one of the raunchiest high-profile heavy metal bands in the 1980s, pursuing sex, drugs and other dehumanizing debaucheries without restraint for the better part of fifteen years. This book spans twenty-one years, from 1980 (when the band formed) to 2001, the band’s story told by the band members (and those who worked with them) in author-alternated chapters.
It should go without saying that this is not for anyone who’s easily offended. The Dirt is sordid, raw, cruel (especially when it comes to the band members’ past deeds), and often shockingly funny; throughout it all, however, one fact shines through – all the band members, f*cked-up and impenitent as they were/are, have a deep, genuine love for making music, which rarely wavered, drug addictions and drama aside.
A necessary, not-off-putting tone of psychoanalysis creeps into the book near the middle of it, as the band members, who come off as distinctive personalities, talk about why they were such sh*ts to everyone around them – the one exception would seem to be Mick Mars, who, while not an innocent, was less indulgent than Sixx, Lee or Neil.
This is not pretty reading. But it is painfully honest and brave, and oftentimes, funnier than a tortoise wearing a tortoise-sized black leather prom dress: highly-recommended for anyone who’s a metal fan, or anybody with a dark seedy sense of humor.
Also worth checking out: The Heroin Diaries: A Year in the Life of a Shattered Rock Star, by Nikki Sixx and Ian Gittins.
Review:
Mötley Crűe – made up of bassist Nikki Sixx, drummer Tommy Lee, guitarist Mick Mars, and vocalist Vince Neil – were one of the raunchiest high-profile heavy metal bands in the 1980s, pursuing sex, drugs and other dehumanizing debaucheries without restraint for the better part of fifteen years. This book spans twenty-one years, from 1980 (when the band formed) to 2001, the band’s story told by the band members (and those who worked with them) in author-alternated chapters.
It should go without saying that this is not for anyone who’s easily offended. The Dirt is sordid, raw, cruel (especially when it comes to the band members’ past deeds), and often shockingly funny; throughout it all, however, one fact shines through – all the band members, f*cked-up and impenitent as they were/are, have a deep, genuine love for making music, which rarely wavered, drug addictions and drama aside.
A necessary, not-off-putting tone of psychoanalysis creeps into the book near the middle of it, as the band members, who come off as distinctive personalities, talk about why they were such sh*ts to everyone around them – the one exception would seem to be Mick Mars, who, while not an innocent, was less indulgent than Sixx, Lee or Neil.
This is not pretty reading. But it is painfully honest and brave, and oftentimes, funnier than a tortoise wearing a tortoise-sized black leather prom dress: highly-recommended for anyone who’s a metal fan, or anybody with a dark seedy sense of humor.
Also worth checking out: The Heroin Diaries: A Year in the Life of a Shattered Rock Star, by Nikki Sixx and Ian Gittins.
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