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A review by nearit
Spaceships Over Glasgow: Mogwai and Misspent Youth by Stuart Braithwaite
funny
fast-paced
2.5
I do love to blaze through a music bio but here as in so many other cases I found myself wishing that a slower and more methodical edit had been carried out before I got started. The usual pet peeve is that the author will repeat anecdotes or bits of information like a nervous conversational gambit, and there's plenty of that here, e.g. the repeated mentions of having dinner with John Peele when he was in town to film Sound of the Suburbs, most of which are framed as though this is the first time we have presented with this information.
Another funny thing about books like this is that the balance of detail tells you a lot about what parts of a musician's career are considered commercially interesting. Again, Spaceships Over Glasgow is typical in this regard, in that we spend most of our time on Mogwai's earlier, messier days, where bad decisions and audience nostalgia mix most freely in the page. I'm not quite as sad to have missed Braithwaite's reflections on life as a label boss and member of a workingband as I was to not spend more time in Bob Mould's sexy bear era, but I would have been up for more recent history all the same.
Regardless of these gripes, Braithwaite is a funny guy with a healthy amount of perspective on his gobshite years, and his commitment to art that tries to draw moments out to eternity is contagious and commendable. As someone a few years younger than Braithwaite who also grew up dreaming of New York and Metropolis while living just outside of Glasgow, the early chapters made old feelings vivid again, but I couldn't help but feel that there was a better version of the book trying to get out of this draft, one that wound a couple of threads from those early days through the late 90s headonism with a bit more clarity.
Another funny thing about books like this is that the balance of detail tells you a lot about what parts of a musician's career are considered commercially interesting. Again, Spaceships Over Glasgow is typical in this regard, in that we spend most of our time on Mogwai's earlier, messier days, where bad decisions and audience nostalgia mix most freely in the page. I'm not quite as sad to have missed Braithwaite's reflections on life as a label boss and member of a workingband as I was to not spend more time in Bob Mould's sexy bear era, but I would have been up for more recent history all the same.
Regardless of these gripes, Braithwaite is a funny guy with a healthy amount of perspective on his gobshite years, and his commitment to art that tries to draw moments out to eternity is contagious and commendable. As someone a few years younger than Braithwaite who also grew up dreaming of New York and Metropolis while living just outside of Glasgow, the early chapters made old feelings vivid again, but I couldn't help but feel that there was a better version of the book trying to get out of this draft, one that wound a couple of threads from those early days through the late 90s headonism with a bit more clarity.