So, it's only fair to start this review by saying that I love the Dreadnoughts. This book was written the same year I first discovered them, so it doeSo, it's only fair to start this review by saying that I love the Dreadnoughts. This book was written the same year I first discovered them, so it does an amazing job of taking me right back to a cold February night at Foufounes Électriques, where they were opening for local psychobilly act The Brains, totally blew my mind and turned me into a huge and devoted fan. I had read on their MySpace page (yes, that was still a thing back then!) that they sounded like what would have happened if a crew of drunken pirates had taken over the Rancid tour bus - and I still describe them that way to people who have not had the pleasure of experiencing their music. I am still a fan to this day, and I can say confidently that they are one of the best live acts I have ever seen. If they have a show happening in Montreal, you will find me there.
So when I finally managed to secure a copy of this book, I read it immediately, while listening to "Legends Never Die" and "Victory Square" (you can find those records and all their music here: https://thedreadnoughts.bandcamp.com/).
These guys wrote a lot of songs about cider, gin and whiskey, so it was no surprise that a lot of this tour "diary" is about drinking. But mostly, it is about what it's like to be on the road when you are a small musical act with no real label support and have to figure it out as you go. I really enjoy reading about that but having had personal experience with that sort of thing, it might just be a nostalgia wank for me. It helps that I adore this band, of course! And that I was delighted to learn that they are actually pretty nerdy under the punk-pirate veneer - which doesn't surprise me, as a lot of their music is actually much deeper and more sophisticated than one might expect.
This is a serious piece of advice for aspiring musicians: read tour diaries like this one, like Henry Rollins' "Get in the Van", because that is the probable reality you will have to deal with if you get a band together and go on tour independently. It's a massive amount of fun, but an equally massive amount of work, logistics and demands on the body and the mind. Sure, there's a lot of partying that can potentially happen, but there is a lot of very hard work that is required to make that happen.
The photos are amazing! I really wished they had been coloured, but I know that's expensive to pull off on an indie press. What truly matters is that they absolutely capture the mad exuberance that you can expect if you ever decide to go to a Dreadnoughts concert!
If you know the band and love their stuff, you should definitely check it out!...more
Little personal anecdote in lieu of introduction to the book review; feel free to skip if you aren’t interested.
Back in May, I was browsing at the recLittle personal anecdote in lieu of introduction to the book review; feel free to skip if you aren’t interested.
Back in May, I was browsing at the record store when I stumbled upon something that made me squeak incredulously: a brand new record by… the Used. That took me back, as the Used’s record “In Love and Death” was the soundtrack to the worst heartbreak of my life, when I was twenty, but I had stopped keeping track of their new releases a long time ago. Also, at the time, I would have died rather than admitted listening to them, for fear of damaging my punk “cred”; now, at almost forty, I am – let’s say – unapologetic about listening to what I want, so I picked it up and brought it home. And. I. Freaking. Loved. It. Which felt so odd because it definitely had a time warp quality to it: their sound is still very much theirs, and Bert McCraken’s lyrics are still intense and deeply felt, but they are also clearly not twenty anymore either. After listening to it a few times, I started building a playlist that I called “Geriatric Emo”, because I guess that’s what bands like the Used and dweebs like me are now: geriatric millennials who still need music that can bring us to an emotional cathartic place in order not to go full bat-shit. And sometimes, we just want to bop our heads to some Paramore, and you can fuck off if you disapprove (whoever said my language would clean up as I got older was sadly mistaken).
The Used is only briefly mentioned in this book, but a lot of bands that they toured with and were contemporary to when they got started have a chapter dedicated to them (I actually saw them live once, opening for Rise Against, hence preserving my oh-so precious “cred”), and I have records by most of those bands, many of which I still listen to. This era was my early college years, and music was the glue to my mind. Against Me!, Rise Against and the Distillers were huge inspirations, making fun of My Chemical Romance was mandatory and begrudgingly listening to At The Drive In was… a thing. And obviously, as mentioned, there were bands you simply had to sneer at if you wanted to be seen as a real punk, and that is very much what Green Day and Blink 182 were: the sellouts. The bands that had made it big and were, somehow, too “pop” for some people’s sensibilities, and were considered to have traded their authenticity for a sound that would mean more commercial success (I am happy to admit that once I relaxed a bit, I ended up enjoying Green Day and Blink exactly for what they were without feeling weird about it).
The concept of selling out is about an ideological purity that has its limitation: no one wants to compromise their artistic vision and turn their work into just a product, which is why the punk scene was (rightfully) very skeptical of what major labels could and would do for them. On the other hand, bills need to be paid, musicians need to eat, and the buying power behind larger labels has created records of amazing quality that would simply not have been as good had they been done on the cheaper and smaller scale. It’s easy to throw the words “sellout” as a slur when you are part of an anti-corporation subculture, but what’s behind it is often pettiness and jealousy – and not simply concerns about artistic integrity. This was something that was such a huge concern in the 90s and the 2000s, but I feel like it’s no longer the raw nerve it used to be, given how different the landscape of the music industry is from what it was then. It’s also ridiculous to expect an artist’s work to never change or evolve: how would that keep the work interesting? Not to rip on Rancid forever, but spending two decades trying to recapture the glory of “… And Out Come the Wolves” has not made them more interesting musicians.
So of course I enjoyed it: I love nerding out about music, and a lot of the music mentioned in this book is stuff that is very dear to my little heart. Some of the stories I knew, but I also learned a lot of new info, that re-contextualized some of what I knew about bands I love, and what they went through to make art. Like, I knew Rancid were total assholes, but they are even worst than I thought. I’ve had direct experience of the sexism that goes with being a girl in a band, so the stories from the Donnas were no surprise, I just wished they had been able to enjoy themselves a bit more. I went to listen to some Thursday, out of curiosity, and I still don’t like them, sorry – but they had a weirdly unique experience of a major actually believing in them and getting screwed over by an indie label! I still rolled my eyes at My Chemical Romance’s song titles; while “Famous Last Words” remains a guilty pleasure of mine, pretty much all their other work makes me want to bash my head on a wall - but their story is still an interesting case of appealing to a broad demographic and knowing how to work the online aspect of their work.
I appreciate that the chapters are laid out chronologically, with regards to when the major label album came out for each band: you can see a certain evolution in the marketing methods, the way the audience connects with the bands, as you go from the mid-90s to the early 2000s, and things become a lot more about social media presence and a band’s capacity to navigate that intelligently. It also illustrates very well that there is no magic formula for a band to make it: Green Day and Jawbreaker were on the same label, same producer, same music video director, and one had insane success while the other one imploded. Art and success is not a muffin recipe!
I wish they had done a full chapter on Anti-Flag, because I love them and because they have an interesting tale of making an (arguably) iconic record on RCA and then taking the big label money to go on and start their own label to support their local scenes, and that is fucking awesome.
But over all, a very interesting book about a special time in the history of rock in general, punk rock specifically - and if you are in the throes of nostalgia like I have been recently, you will love this!
Also, this is my 1000th review on Goodreads! HOLY SHIT!...more
My first introduction to punk was a couple of used records I found at a garage sale: the Clash’s “London Calling” and the Cramps’ “Songs the Lord TaugMy first introduction to punk was a couple of used records I found at a garage sale: the Clash’s “London Calling” and the Cramps’ “Songs the Lord Taught Us”, both absolute masterpieces, but they were already “old” records by the time I got my hands on them. The punk music I actually grew up on is the stuff this book is about: Bad Religion, Rancid, the Offspring, NOFX, Green Day. That was the newest wave of punk rock at the time, the bands whose records I hunted down at the woefully understocked record shop of the shitty burb I spent my teenage years in (most riot grrrl stuff had to be inexplicably special ordered from Europe: it was a cultural wasteland!). It is only in hindsight that I realize why they were so relevant to me: most of those bands came from the same environment I did, North American suburbia and it’s weird veneer of conformity that felt all wrong. My parents were not conservative, but they were a bit checked out (as a lot of parents were at the time) and really didn’t get why I felt alienated, which means music made by people who felt the same was a source of live-saving comfort. I know that can seem odd, but that comfort means I have a visceral attachments to bands and records from that era, so this book was just irresistible.
This book is very California-centric: additionally to the other bands mentioned above, Ian Winwood talks about X, Social Distortion and Pennywise – but the emphasis on Green Day seems disproportional to the amount of page-space dedicated to other bands (the author’s picture on the dust jacket is of him with Billie Joe Armstrong…), so I think it could have been more balanced (if you name a book after an Offspring record, it could easily lead one to assume the book was about them!), but this was simply too much fun for me to rate lower than this. I am still very fond of the records discussed, I will always love those bands to death, and the story of Epitaph Records is fascinating to me; I remember picking up random records from bands I had never heard of because they were on Epitaph, which was basically a badge of excellence I could trust with both eyes closed.
Books like this one and like “Sellout” bring me a lot of joy because if there is anything I love geeking the fuck out about, it’s music, especially that genre. It makes me dig out some records and build playlists I can bang my head to as I read. It makes me want to take out my dusty guitar! Obviously, I recommend listening to the bands and albums mentioned as you read this book: the minute Operation Ivy came up, I had “Knowledge” on repeat.
Definitely a must-read for fans of that era of punk rock!...more
I don’t remember exactly when I first saw this amazing footage, but I do remember thinking it was one of the coolest things I had ever seen. Granted, the audio is not great, but who cares? It amazed me that anyone could surrender themselves to their music and performance the way Lux Interior did, that his entire body was part of delivering that song to the rabid audience at his feet. And then later, I was amazed to see him interviewed: he was a soft-spoken, clearly well-read and articulate man who simply exuded kindness. In a latex suit and high heels. Ivy was even more awesome: the way she sneered as she played guitar, giving off an amazing vibe of sex and danger. I had no doubt that if anyone in the audience tried to lay a finger on her, she’d have broken her Gretsch on their head. She was, and still is, my rock and roll hero.
And I haven’t even gotten to how awesome their music is! The primal rhythm, the “less is more”, twangy guitar that both honors and gently mocks the rockabilly Lux and Ivy adored so much, the over the top lyrics about B-movies, creature features, wild sex and drug use… My parents would have hated it, but I loved it so much. It was so weird, shameless and magnificent.
The Cramps never enjoyed the mainstream-ish success that some other bands of the CBGB crowd did, but their cult following was rabid, and they toured pretty much non-stop for almost thirty years. And while drummers, rhythm guitarists and bassists came and went, the core of the band, which made it the scary/awesome beast that drew crowds all these years was Lux and Ivy. So the story of the Cramps is not just the story of a band, but also the love story of these two beautiful freaks.
While I loved the book and it’s treasure trove of detailed info, it was uneven. This happens a lot with rock bio: the first half is a detailed biography of the band members, a lot of stories about how the band got together, their first gigs, etc… and then the second half crams all their recordings at a breakneck speed because all the space is already taken up by a deep dig into how Little Richard, Elvis and crazy rockabillies had laid down the blueprints the Cramps would built themselves from. It’s a bummer that the second half isn’t as fleshed out, because I would have loved more stories about the tours and the recordings – but the context is important to truly understand the band. I did find that the ending was rather abrupt, segway-ing the fact that Lux died mid-sentence…
But despite that annoying pacing issue, I really loved reading this. I knew that Ivy was an incredible guitarist, but it was amazing to learn that she also produced almost all of the Cramps’ records, and managed the band herself for the entire duration of their career. The title of Queen of Rock and Roll is not given to her lightly! Of course, part of why she had to take on those roles is because the music industry was notoriously terrible to artists in the 70s and 80s, and the Cramps got burnt by labels, distributors and producers, and Ivy taking on those roles was the only way for them to keep making the music they wanted to make. One has to wonder what they could have accomplished had Bandcamp been a thing back then!
It’s also fascinating to hear about their influences and process directly from Lux and Ivy – who were often dismissed as a gimmick or a spoof band, when in fact, they had a very clear vision of rock and roll and were simply being their authentic, flamboyant selves.
Any fan of the band ought to pick this up; imperfect as it may be, it’s a beautiful story of love and rock and roll.
One of the things that amazed me the most about Bad Religion when I first started listen to them, wasn’t just that the music was melodic and loud at tOne of the things that amazed me the most about Bad Religion when I first started listen to them, wasn’t just that the music was melodic and loud at the same time, but also that the lyrics were erudite and poetic, that they were designed to make the listener think. They wanted you to slam dance, but they also wanted you to read, to get informed, to think for yourself. Bad Religion was punk rock for nerds, and I already knew that I would always be one of those – at least as far as the cool people were concerned. Comparatively, stuff like Blink-182 felt juvenile and silly (though still fun to listen to): BR had set a benchmark of aggression and intelligence I relished, and would seek out in other punk bands. The ones I ended up loving the most were also the ones who played loud, high energy songs that had lyrics I could pore over and learn from.
This book is the history of the band, from their formation when the core of the band were attending high school together in 1980 to the release of their most recent album, in 2019. Their longevity is amazing: I went to see them play at the Metropolis ten years ago… for their 30th anniversary tour!! A local music critic (who shall remain nameless) wrote at the time that he had never understood the point of Bad Religion, but hey, they’ve been doing this for 40 years and his band imploded after 4, so, some people clearly see the point he’s missing. There have been hiatuses and line-up changes, but it’s still incredible to watch them go and pour passion and energy into a crowd of increasingly grey-haired fans (sidebar: I am always so impressed by old punks! Keith Morris and Iggy Pop makes the younger bands look like barely animated corpses and they are 67 and 76, respectively!).
I thought I knew a decent amount about this band, but I still wrapped up this book having learnt quite a bit, most importantly how absolutely crucial the band, Brett Gurewitz’ label Epitaph and the release of the album “Suffer” were for the development of the second wave of punk rock, and it’s eventual explosion in popularity in the 90s. It’s also lovely to read about those guys, because while some of them battled some serious demons, none of them are dicks: they are all smart, good dudes who care about making good music and giving their audience a great show and some important stuff to think about once the music stops playing. That way of being definitely elevates Bad Religion in my esteem.
This is very fun read that I recommend to all fans of the band, if only to indulge in a bit of nostalgia about how old you were when “Recipe for Hate” came out (I’ll never tell!)
I thought a lot about my friend Alex as I read this; he and I bonded over a love of Bad Religion and NOFX. He passed away a few years ago, and I often think of him when I listen to their music. He would have loved this....more