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3.85 AVERAGE
3.85 AVERAGE
I mentioned before that I thought Elvis needed an editor. I take that back;
He just needed a better audiobook producer who could interject now and then with "Hey Declan - pick up the pace!"
Good, maybe even great in hard copy.
He just needed a better audiobook producer who could interject now and then with "Hey Declan - pick up the pace!"
Good, maybe even great in hard copy.
This one had to be audio-shelved for a while while I recuperated from surgery & Shakespeare. I quite liked it. Also, finishing it means I'm able to be back at the gym, which I am also pleased about.
In the liner notes to the Rhino re-release of "Spike," Elvis Costello said that, thanks to the freedom of a new record contract, he had ideas for five different albums. The problem was he decided to make all five at once.
He has the same problem with "Unfaithful Music & Disappearing Ink." (He also quotes that old line about "Spike" -- why waste a good sentence?)
Is this a memoir about a boy and his musician father? A recall of his early days as rock's Angry Young Man? A name-dropping chronicle of working with Paul McCartney, Allen Toussaint, George Jones, Michael Tilson-Thomas and Bob Dylan? A lament for his often terrible love life? A music lover's tribute to the music he loved?
It's all of them -- but it shouldn't have been. This book is close to 700 pages and could have been much better, and smoother, at half that. And maybe then Elvis could have quickly produced a second volume with the material about his favorite records and weaved in tales of opening for Bob Dylan. (Those tales are always darned entertaining -- it's refreshing to see that Elvis has never lost the wide-eyed fan within.)
The father-son memoir is the most moving, and I was often surprised when Elvis veered off that backbone, considering his success in opening the book with a contrast between his father's pop style and the rock records he had to learn -- and Elvis grew to love. His father, Ross MacManus, was a trumpet player and vocalist who spent his career never quite becoming famous, with part of the time working for the Joe Loss Orchestra, a well-known UK group. So Elvis learned early about the itinerant life of a musician, and has never fooled himself that it's one of glamour -- more like meals on the run, crummy hotels and occasional backstage and hotel-room sex. (Unlike some rock stars, the reticent Elvis isn't one to say the sex outweighed the loneliness of long-distance bus travel. But then, he was never the kind of musician to be drugged to the hilt, either -- though he did his share of drinking.)
Unfortunately, somewhere between pages 100 and 200, Elvis loses the thread. Tales of recording the first few albums with the Attractions are good enough, but when he starts jumping way forward in time, only to lurch way backwards (including tales of his grandfather and great-grandfather), you want him to pick a subject. And when he starts interrupting with some of his more recent lyrics -- or, worse, some overwrought short stories -- you want to say, "Elvis, can we talk about 'Imperial Bedroom'?"
At that point there's still 400-plus pages to go.
The thing is, he's never less than a literate and empathetic writer, a far cry from the cutting image he gained in his early days. A wise editor could have done a great deal of good in reining him in. But I wonder if there's some comparison to be made with his post-1989 output -- that is, "Spike" and afterwards: Like the book, those records have great parts but lack the drive and concentration his Columbia albums did. (Yes, even "Punch the Clock" and "Goodbye Cruel World," which could be seen as his attempt at commercialism.) It's just that nobody seemed to be there to tell him to play faster, or slower, or (especially) to lose the purple prosody.
Dammit, Elvis. I had such high hopes. Can you run your next book by Nick Lowe first?
He has the same problem with "Unfaithful Music & Disappearing Ink." (He also quotes that old line about "Spike" -- why waste a good sentence?)
Is this a memoir about a boy and his musician father? A recall of his early days as rock's Angry Young Man? A name-dropping chronicle of working with Paul McCartney, Allen Toussaint, George Jones, Michael Tilson-Thomas and Bob Dylan? A lament for his often terrible love life? A music lover's tribute to the music he loved?
It's all of them -- but it shouldn't have been. This book is close to 700 pages and could have been much better, and smoother, at half that. And maybe then Elvis could have quickly produced a second volume with the material about his favorite records and weaved in tales of opening for Bob Dylan. (Those tales are always darned entertaining -- it's refreshing to see that Elvis has never lost the wide-eyed fan within.)
The father-son memoir is the most moving, and I was often surprised when Elvis veered off that backbone, considering his success in opening the book with a contrast between his father's pop style and the rock records he had to learn -- and Elvis grew to love. His father, Ross MacManus, was a trumpet player and vocalist who spent his career never quite becoming famous, with part of the time working for the Joe Loss Orchestra, a well-known UK group. So Elvis learned early about the itinerant life of a musician, and has never fooled himself that it's one of glamour -- more like meals on the run, crummy hotels and occasional backstage and hotel-room sex. (Unlike some rock stars, the reticent Elvis isn't one to say the sex outweighed the loneliness of long-distance bus travel. But then, he was never the kind of musician to be drugged to the hilt, either -- though he did his share of drinking.)
Unfortunately, somewhere between pages 100 and 200, Elvis loses the thread. Tales of recording the first few albums with the Attractions are good enough, but when he starts jumping way forward in time, only to lurch way backwards (including tales of his grandfather and great-grandfather), you want him to pick a subject. And when he starts interrupting with some of his more recent lyrics -- or, worse, some overwrought short stories -- you want to say, "Elvis, can we talk about 'Imperial Bedroom'?"
At that point there's still 400-plus pages to go.
The thing is, he's never less than a literate and empathetic writer, a far cry from the cutting image he gained in his early days. A wise editor could have done a great deal of good in reining him in. But I wonder if there's some comparison to be made with his post-1989 output -- that is, "Spike" and afterwards: Like the book, those records have great parts but lack the drive and concentration his Columbia albums did. (Yes, even "Punch the Clock" and "Goodbye Cruel World," which could be seen as his attempt at commercialism.) It's just that nobody seemed to be there to tell him to play faster, or slower, or (especially) to lose the purple prosody.
Dammit, Elvis. I had such high hopes. Can you run your next book by Nick Lowe first?
This is quite a memoir. More about the little boy inside this man....the more I read it the more I realized that this book was a look at a person who was and still is, searching for that release of the soil inside. Costello always seemed so dry....so much made of all that was around him, and influenced by others actions. But never really having one of his own. He seems very much
like he is ready to share with the world his experiences and thoughts.
like he is ready to share with the world his experiences and thoughts.
Lots of stories of his life in music, and plenty of lyrics to lead the way, but the narrative does shift and meander (which I didn't mind but others might find it a little disjointed)
Excellent book, but I wholeheartedly recommend the audio. The stories are told in a non-linear progression, but listening to Elvis read it seemed like listening to a friend tell stories. I'm not sure if I would get the same effect reading the book, or if the jumping around might confuse me a bit at first. In any case, a fascinating look at the music business, Elvis' family, and his life. Beautifully written, as you might expect.
challenging
informative
inspiring
slow-paced
I will give this to Elvis Costello - he certainly didn't skimp on details of his songcraft at all. In fact, he went into a breathless amount of detail of how he put things together, even when he couldn't remember all of it, or when it was a group collaboration. I will also allow the moments where he just didn't want to perform a full, public autopsy of his failed relationships (though he did mention them, so I will credit him for that). I definitely enjoyed his humorous, highly literary writing style. As a more casual fan, I felt that the book was a bit too long (at 650+ pages!), but other, more ardent fans will probably deeply appreciate the length and depth that he delves into.
To me, a memoir is often like sitting next to someone in a bar who ends up telling you stories about themselves. Elvis is definitely a great storyteller, with many stories to tell. Some poignant (especially about his father), some hilarious (his accounts of tours in the late 1970s with the Attractions), but some were a bit dull and self aggrandizing. However, if there's any place for that, it's in a memoir. Special kudos for one particular bit - this book will be perfect to mine for excellent anecdotes to be excerpted in magazines for years to come, so well done on securing those second serial subsidiary rights.
To me, a memoir is often like sitting next to someone in a bar who ends up telling you stories about themselves. Elvis is definitely a great storyteller, with many stories to tell. Some poignant (especially about his father), some hilarious (his accounts of tours in the late 1970s with the Attractions), but some were a bit dull and self aggrandizing. However, if there's any place for that, it's in a memoir. Special kudos for one particular bit - this book will be perfect to mine for excellent anecdotes to be excerpted in magazines for years to come, so well done on securing those second serial subsidiary rights.
I am a big fan of Elvis Costello's music. I have been since high school (a long time ago). I knew nothing about Elvis Costello the human being. After reading this book, my view of him has diminished a bit.
adventurous
funny
informative
inspiring
medium-paced