December 17–24, 1998

music

Books

Glam! Bowie, Bolan and the Glitter Rock Revolution

By Barney Hoskyns

Pocket Books, 133 p., $15

The last time we heard from pop sociologist Hoskyns he was tearing into the not-so-mellow vibe of the L.A. music scene in Waiting For The Sun. His reportage was thorough, his attitude cutting. You'd think he'd apply the same funhouse mirror to the roots of glitter rock—the hysteria of Marc Bolan becoming the star that was T. Rex; David Bowie transforming into Ziggy; Iggy Pop, Lou Reed and the Dolls all tarting it up. Hoskyns is precociously informative, especially where it concerns lesser lights of glam like Chapman & Chinn, oafish child-pornographer Gary Glitter and American drama sham Jorbraith. Bolan's rise, impact and fall is fully intact. Alice Cooper, P-Funk and Patti LaBelle and even hair rockers like Poison are included. But because so much has already been written on the influence of Bowie, Iggy and Lou, there seems to be a lack of info on them here and fewer laughs than anticipated. I hoped for more of a take on the psychology of androgyny of the times. If Hoskyns could have devoted the same evil grin to the godfathers of Glam! that he did with Waiting, this would've been one wham-bam-thank-u-ma'am of a book.

-a.d. amorosi

 

High on Rebellion: Inside the Underground at Max's Kansas City

By Yvonne Sewall-Ruskin

Thunder's Mouth Press, 288 p, $24.95

Manhattan's Max's Kansas City was not only a harbor for celebrity and its hangers-on, but a place where tastes were made, trends bent and taboos broken. From 1965-1981, the nightclub—notorious for its lousy steaks and the rancor of sex, drugs and art—was a center of cultural change filled with big names and glorious nobodies. Yvonne Sewall-Ruskin, ex-wife of legendary owner Mickey Ruskin and a waitress at Max's, takes you through the darkest nights and the swingingest crowds with conversational ease, letting you in on the most intimate details. Some of this minutiae is a tad unglamorous. Yet the inside scoop on company softball teams, number crunching and lengthy bar tabs does have its allure. Mickey Ruskin's intimacy and generosity with his famous clientele is what made him famous. It is these memories, along with mentions of the likes of Max's regular Andy Warhol, that are noted in the book's introduction by Lou Reed. Ruskin created a bedrock for "superstars" and street urchins like the Velvets, Patti Smith, Divine, and the Factory minions. Max's was the home of punk rock before it was punk rock. He created a place where artists and writers ruled. He allowed people—like table stripper/rich kid Andrea Feldman—to do their thing no matter how outrageous (as long as they were clean). But what makes High on Rebellion bitchy fun is the roundtable-style interviews with the sinners and saints that made Max's great.

-a.d. amorosi

 

Making the Wiseguys Weep: The Jimmy Roselli Story

By David Evanier

Farrar Strauss And Giroux, 260 p., $24

Evanier's devised a winsome, wise-assed and very detailed book about the life and music of Hoboken's favorite singing son (other than Sinatra), Jimmy Roselli. The biography lingers long on Roselli's dynamic vocal range, his old-fashioned sense of delivery and dedication to his nationality and his neighborhood.

The ties to Sinatra make up the rest of the book. Sinatra's dominance over Roselli allows Roselli to spout wildly about Frank's lesser talents. He clearly he admires Sinatra's swagger, yet can't understand Sinatra's willingness to compromise. Roselli, more like Raging Bull's Jake LaMotta than Ol' Blue Eyes, really did it his waaaay, much to the detriment of his career. As the constant outsider, Roselli—without a mother or decent father, stalks the fringes of success and family, desperately seeking both, but never admitting it. This hard-living guy ignores musicians, unions and mob bosses, even if it means taking a loss. He contradicts himself often, as he seeks out the managerial insight of the Mafia only to betray them at the last moment. So why isn't he six feet under? The title says it all. As the last of the great Neapolitan singers of traditional Italian song, Roselli's made a profitable career out of being a chooch whose angelic singing made mob bosses, their wives and most importantly, their mothers cry.

-a.d. amorosi

 

XTC: Song Stories

By XTC & Neville Farmer

Hyperion, 304 p., $14.95

XTC has become an enigma over the past two decades. What do you expect when you evolve from nervy new wave band into a group of reclusive studio perfectionists? Song Stories helps remove much of the mystery that has built up during those 20 years. In addition to annotating virtually everything recorded by the British cult phenomenon, Song Stories also provides a compelling psychological sketch of the band members. Building from his interviews with the group, Farmer traces the genealogy of songs like "Dear God" (musically, a cross between the Beatles' "Rocky Raccoon" and Gershwin's "Summertime") and "The Ballad of Peter Pumpkinhead" (frontman Andy Partridge decided to turn his child's rotting jack-o-lantern into a Jesus-type figure). The fragile, tense balance of personalities that makes up the band—the sensitive yet stubborn Partridge and his patient if oft-restless mates Colin Moulding and Dave Gregory—also becomes apparent. All three come across as witty, verbose and surprisingly candid with both themselves and each other (Gregory chastises Partridge at one point for dismissing a former producer). Fittingly, the book closes with Gregory's decision to depart the band during the recording of their upcoming new album. Song Stories should appeal to XTC fans as well as readers interested in what makes a band.

-Michael Pelusi

 

Patti Smith/Complete

By Patti Smith

Doubleday, 252 p., $35

For nearly 30 years, Patti Smith has maintained notoriety for impassioned singing, writing rock songs that are arguably art and projecting a feminine mystique that allows her self-empowered autonomy while being a dedicated paramour to stoic men.

Patti Smith/Complete is not a conventional memoir or autobiography. Though there are splashes of recollections and jottings from journals, there is no assessment or hard facts. Yet confessional outpourings crop up on every page as Smith shows favorite snapshots of her youth featuring, among others, Keith Richards, Bill Burroughs and Johnny Carson. She juxtaposes these with samples from her own photo collection, including pictures taken (of her) by infamous buddies Annie Liebowitz, Kate Simon, boyfriend Oliver Ray, Michael Stipe, Robert Mapplethorpe and brother Todd. The best thing is that the wild woolly lyrics to seven albums worth of magic and loss are all here. These phrases—alone or set to music—speak of sex and succumbing, of tragedy and titillation, of the road and the street and of God; each screams like a prayer ripped from the soul. But mostly they speak of language itself and our ultimate need to communicate-which is what makes this book crucial.

-a.d. amorosi