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I'm Not with the Band: A Writer's Life Lost in Music
This is a three-decade survivor's tale ... a scenic search for elusive human happiness through music, magazines, silly jokes, stupid shoes, useless blokes, hopeless homes, booze, drugs, love, loss, A&E, death, disillusion and hope - while trying to make Prince laugh, startle Beyoncé, cheer Eminem up, annoy Madonna, drink with Shaun Ryder and finish off Westlife forever (with varying degrees of success).
In 1986, Sylvia Patterson boarded a train to London armed with a tea-chest full of vinyl records, a peroxide quiff and a dream: to write about music, for ever. She got her wish.
Escaping a troubled home, Sylvia embarks on a lifelong quest to discover The Meaning of It All. The problem is she's mostly hanging out with flaky pop stars, rock 'n' roll heroes and unreliable hip-hop legends. As she encounters music's biggest names, she is confronted by glamour and tragedy; wisdom and lunacy; drink, drugs and disaster. And Bros.
Here is Madonna in her Earth Mother phase, flinging her hands up in horror at one of Sylv's Very Stupid Questions. Prince compliments her shoes while Eminem threatens to kill her. She shares fruit with Johnny Cash, make-up with Amy Winehouse and several pints with the Manics' lost soul-man Richey Edwards. She finds the Beckhams fragrant in LA, a Gallagher madferrit in her living room and Shaun Ryder and Bez as you'd expect, in Jamaica.
From the 80s to the present day, I'm Not with the Band is a funny, barmy, utterly gripping chronicle of the last thirty years in music and beyond. It is also the story of one woman's wayward search for love, peace and a wonderful life. And whether, or not, she found them.
In 1986, Sylvia Patterson boarded a train to London armed with a tea-chest full of vinyl records, a peroxide quiff and a dream: to write about music, for ever. She got her wish.
Escaping a troubled home, Sylvia embarks on a lifelong quest to discover The Meaning of It All. The problem is she's mostly hanging out with flaky pop stars, rock 'n' roll heroes and unreliable hip-hop legends. As she encounters music's biggest names, she is confronted by glamour and tragedy; wisdom and lunacy; drink, drugs and disaster. And Bros.
Here is Madonna in her Earth Mother phase, flinging her hands up in horror at one of Sylv's Very Stupid Questions. Prince compliments her shoes while Eminem threatens to kill her. She shares fruit with Johnny Cash, make-up with Amy Winehouse and several pints with the Manics' lost soul-man Richey Edwards. She finds the Beckhams fragrant in LA, a Gallagher madferrit in her living room and Shaun Ryder and Bez as you'd expect, in Jamaica.
From the 80s to the present day, I'm Not with the Band is a funny, barmy, utterly gripping chronicle of the last thirty years in music and beyond. It is also the story of one woman's wayward search for love, peace and a wonderful life. And whether, or not, she found them.
448 pages, Kindle Edition
First published June 16, 2016
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 97 reviews
July 3, 2022
I count myself lucky to remember Smash Hits of the late 1980s. For the uninitiated, it was a UK-based pop music magazine, published fortnightly, that contained news, song lyrics and interviews with all the latest chart-topping artists. But it was its tone that made it so special - it was clever, irreverent and had an anarchic sense of humour. Its writers were as likely to ask popstars whether they had ever grown parsnips out of a gumboot as about their new album, and this approach often coaxed them into revealing things they would never normally mention (or else hang up the phone).
Sylvia Patterson was one of those writers, and this is her memoir, recalling her colourful career as a music journalist. After Smash Hits, she went on to write for several other notable publications, like the NME and Q. She has interviewed everybody over the intervening decades - Prince, Madonna, Britney Spears, Eminem - you name it. And she has plenty of dirt to dish, which makes it a very juicy read.
She's also extremely funny, with a fine line in self-deprecating humour. I cringed at her story about Simply Red's Mick Hucknall, stalking his hotel to hand over a printed copy of her interview with him, in the hopes that he might fall in love with her. I think I'd be too embarrassed to reveal something like that but she makes it sound so amusing. Her memory of listening to Liam Gallagher of Oasis talking to a friend in her sitting room as she cleaned vomit out of her hair in the bathroom above made me laugh out loud.
Patterson has also gone through a lot of turmoil in her personal life, which she talks about very candidly. A self-destructive tendency when it came to drugs and booze didn't help things, breaking her arm so badly on one bender that there was a worry it might have to be amputated. Her family situation was troubled, mostly stemming from her mother's alcoholism. And her own struggles to conceive, resulting in several miscarriages, are heartbreaking to read about.
Patterson writes so brilliantly about everything, from having a bedtime story read to her by Jarvis Cocker, to Johnny Cash admiring her shoes, to spending the night at Spike Milligan's house. She has had an amazing career, and it's all down to her journalistic skills, but also her incredible ability to engage with interviewees, sparring with them in the hopes that they might open up. More often than not, they did. The later chapters rail against how anodyne music journalism has become in recent years due to the internet, with artists afraid to say anything that might be the least bit controversial, for fear that it might explode on social media. She has a fair point, and it makes me pine for the more innocent days of Smash Hits. I'm not sure I'd like to share a flat with her, but Sylvia Patterson is one hell of a writer, and this hilarious, surprisingly moving memoir was an absolute joy to read.
Favourite Quotes:
"Much like being in a fantastic new band, surely, having a favourite new band is one of life’s most intoxicating thrills, a prismatic explosion of hitherto dormant energy channelled from the atmosphere directly into your soul; an atomic collision promising unknowable new possibilities of sonic beguilement, lyrical connection, dancing upside down on a dance floor with your greatest friends and talking synapse- shredded cobblers ’til three days hence at dawn."
"working for the NME from �94 onwards meant being paid the equivalent of a ten- year- old Dickensian urchin lodged down a tin mine in 1837."
"The Internet had changed everything, not only wrecking the mags� already tenuous claim to ‘exclusivity� but creating in the celebs a default position of paranoia as all public figures became aware, for the first time, any lone journo’s microphone was actually a radioactive global megaphone just one careless (interesting) quip away from a hollering tabloid headline."
Sylvia Patterson was one of those writers, and this is her memoir, recalling her colourful career as a music journalist. After Smash Hits, she went on to write for several other notable publications, like the NME and Q. She has interviewed everybody over the intervening decades - Prince, Madonna, Britney Spears, Eminem - you name it. And she has plenty of dirt to dish, which makes it a very juicy read.
She's also extremely funny, with a fine line in self-deprecating humour. I cringed at her story about Simply Red's Mick Hucknall, stalking his hotel to hand over a printed copy of her interview with him, in the hopes that he might fall in love with her. I think I'd be too embarrassed to reveal something like that but she makes it sound so amusing. Her memory of listening to Liam Gallagher of Oasis talking to a friend in her sitting room as she cleaned vomit out of her hair in the bathroom above made me laugh out loud.
Patterson has also gone through a lot of turmoil in her personal life, which she talks about very candidly. A self-destructive tendency when it came to drugs and booze didn't help things, breaking her arm so badly on one bender that there was a worry it might have to be amputated. Her family situation was troubled, mostly stemming from her mother's alcoholism. And her own struggles to conceive, resulting in several miscarriages, are heartbreaking to read about.
Patterson writes so brilliantly about everything, from having a bedtime story read to her by Jarvis Cocker, to Johnny Cash admiring her shoes, to spending the night at Spike Milligan's house. She has had an amazing career, and it's all down to her journalistic skills, but also her incredible ability to engage with interviewees, sparring with them in the hopes that they might open up. More often than not, they did. The later chapters rail against how anodyne music journalism has become in recent years due to the internet, with artists afraid to say anything that might be the least bit controversial, for fear that it might explode on social media. She has a fair point, and it makes me pine for the more innocent days of Smash Hits. I'm not sure I'd like to share a flat with her, but Sylvia Patterson is one hell of a writer, and this hilarious, surprisingly moving memoir was an absolute joy to read.
Favourite Quotes:
"Much like being in a fantastic new band, surely, having a favourite new band is one of life’s most intoxicating thrills, a prismatic explosion of hitherto dormant energy channelled from the atmosphere directly into your soul; an atomic collision promising unknowable new possibilities of sonic beguilement, lyrical connection, dancing upside down on a dance floor with your greatest friends and talking synapse- shredded cobblers ’til three days hence at dawn."
"working for the NME from �94 onwards meant being paid the equivalent of a ten- year- old Dickensian urchin lodged down a tin mine in 1837."
"The Internet had changed everything, not only wrecking the mags� already tenuous claim to ‘exclusivity� but creating in the celebs a default position of paranoia as all public figures became aware, for the first time, any lone journo’s microphone was actually a radioactive global megaphone just one careless (interesting) quip away from a hollering tabloid headline."
November 5, 2017
When it's good it's great but there were sections I found a little tedious and, by the end of the book, I was glad to have finished it.
Part memoir; part deconstruction of how the music industry has moved from playful and irreverent to po-faced, micromanaged celebrity culture; part history of the music press; and a number of chapters of key artists who Sylvia had interviewed over her decades as a music journalist.
The best chapters are those on Shaun Ryder, Bez and Kermit of Black Grape; Johnny Cash and Spike Milligan; and the final death throes of the NME. I also enjoyed tales of Sylvia's childhood and the hell that is an alcoholic mother. I could have done without the chapters on Beyoncé, Kylie, and Westlife.
Definitely well worth a read though, Sylvia has had a heck of a life, both professionally and personally, and she's an engaging writer.
3/5
Part memoir; part deconstruction of how the music industry has moved from playful and irreverent to po-faced, micromanaged celebrity culture; part history of the music press; and a number of chapters of key artists who Sylvia had interviewed over her decades as a music journalist.
The best chapters are those on Shaun Ryder, Bez and Kermit of Black Grape; Johnny Cash and Spike Milligan; and the final death throes of the NME. I also enjoyed tales of Sylvia's childhood and the hell that is an alcoholic mother. I could have done without the chapters on Beyoncé, Kylie, and Westlife.
Definitely well worth a read though, Sylvia has had a heck of a life, both professionally and personally, and she's an engaging writer.
3/5
February 23, 2018
We Are Very Quiet Persons Who Do Not Like To Brag
Late in 1988, Smash Hits ran a typically swizzaway interview with short-lived Eurodance sensations Milli Vanilli. Gamefully chortling � or if you prefer ‘laughings� � at their own absurdistly flawed battles with English as a second language, ‘Rob� and ‘Fab� gleefully informed listeners that they liked to eat ‘ananas� and ‘mice�, recounted how ‘the nurses in the child-house� had used them as ‘a football�, refused to be cast in any film that would depict them as ‘crocks�, and lamented the precarious physical condition of ‘the fat one� from The Fat Boys. Although it would no doubt be looked on less fondly from this distance, it was a harmless bit of nonsense where the ‘victims� were in on the joke, and gave rise to � as pretty much anything did to be fair � an affectionate if caustic running gag motif in Smash Hits. As it did with the Ver Hits-addicted youngsters in my family, who still send cards from, and attribute badly worded texts to, ‘Rob� and ‘Fab�.
It’s this interview that opens I’m Not With The Band, Sylvia Patterson’s searingly honest and indeed searingly funny account of her life in music journalism. In case you hadn’t quite picked up on it � which would be surprising, as it’s as obvious as spotting Marc Almond in Pervy ‘So’ho � Smash Hits in its mid-to-late eighties majesty had a huge influence on my writing style, not just in terms of twirly-wirly-‘spook�-plane-to-the-rescue-tacular maltreatment of language but also the ability to spot why certain people and reference points were inherently funny. So many throwaway bits of nonsense are drilled word-imperfect-perfect into my memory From The History Of Rock’n’Roll Part Three: Elvis Presley to The Upper Bubblington Village Fete, so you can blame Bitz, Mutterings and Reg ‘Reg� Snipton And His Useless Toadstool for that business with that Michael Parkinson photo.
More realistically, however, you can probably blame Sylvia and her anarchic approach to entertainment journalism, which I followed from Smash Hits into NME � where the still-striking cover photo, taken as part of her bizarre quest to pass herself off as Alex James from Blur for an evening, originally comes from � on to Loaded and Neon and beyond. It’s thrilling to find so many of those memorable interviews, features and encounters recounted with the benefit of hindsight and lashings of often hair-raising behind-the-scenes backstory, but I’m Not With The Band isn’t all laughs. Or even laughings.
As well as covering her problematic upbringing and troubles in adult life with a commendable combination of wit, understanding and harrowingly relatable detail, Sylvia also knowingly charts the depressing rise of celebrity culture and the detrimental effect it has had on us all. At the start of the book, she’s able to ask even the most inaccessible of global megastars ludicrous questions just to see their reactions, and if they weren’t amused then the joke was on them. By the end, she’s being physically ejected � by men � from interview rooms after deviating by one word from a list of pre-approved banal prompts about nothing. There’s also room for rumination on Twitter outrage, following her own experiences after being left in the firing line by a pop star who refused to hold their hand up for an ill-advised thing that they’d said, and conversely a couple of occasions when owning your own words and admitting when you’d got it wrong was the best course of action for everyone. Well, apart from Frankie Goes To Hollywood. Throughout it all, Sylvia keeps returning to poor old Milli Vanilli, and the more innocent time when she could provoke them into an endless stream of gibberish about bikes with ‘big banana seats� and everyone saw the funny side and they still kept on selling records � and Smash Hits kept on selling full stop � regardless. After all they had sold the most records on cassette single in the world but didn’t want anyone to know as they were very quiet persons who did not like to brag.
Not long afterwards, for the hideous crime of not having sung on their own records, ‘Rob� and ‘Fab� became the victims of international outrage while the actual industry types who perpetrated the entire scam walked away unscathed. Their career was wrecked, and ‘Rob� later took his own life, and that was 1990; one really does shudder to think what would happen to them now. There probably aren’t many places that you’ll find a good word said about Milli Vanilli now, but this fantastic book celebrates them and so many others from an era when even the most zzzzzzzzzzztastic of mainstream plank-spankers could seem, well, almost fun. And maybe, just maybe, the more we get to look back and see where we’ve got a bit lost, the more likely it is that everything might start to swing back in that direction. How’s about that then, ‘Albert�?
Late in 1988, Smash Hits ran a typically swizzaway interview with short-lived Eurodance sensations Milli Vanilli. Gamefully chortling � or if you prefer ‘laughings� � at their own absurdistly flawed battles with English as a second language, ‘Rob� and ‘Fab� gleefully informed listeners that they liked to eat ‘ananas� and ‘mice�, recounted how ‘the nurses in the child-house� had used them as ‘a football�, refused to be cast in any film that would depict them as ‘crocks�, and lamented the precarious physical condition of ‘the fat one� from The Fat Boys. Although it would no doubt be looked on less fondly from this distance, it was a harmless bit of nonsense where the ‘victims� were in on the joke, and gave rise to � as pretty much anything did to be fair � an affectionate if caustic running gag motif in Smash Hits. As it did with the Ver Hits-addicted youngsters in my family, who still send cards from, and attribute badly worded texts to, ‘Rob� and ‘Fab�.
It’s this interview that opens I’m Not With The Band, Sylvia Patterson’s searingly honest and indeed searingly funny account of her life in music journalism. In case you hadn’t quite picked up on it � which would be surprising, as it’s as obvious as spotting Marc Almond in Pervy ‘So’ho � Smash Hits in its mid-to-late eighties majesty had a huge influence on my writing style, not just in terms of twirly-wirly-‘spook�-plane-to-the-rescue-tacular maltreatment of language but also the ability to spot why certain people and reference points were inherently funny. So many throwaway bits of nonsense are drilled word-imperfect-perfect into my memory From The History Of Rock’n’Roll Part Three: Elvis Presley to The Upper Bubblington Village Fete, so you can blame Bitz, Mutterings and Reg ‘Reg� Snipton And His Useless Toadstool for that business with that Michael Parkinson photo.
More realistically, however, you can probably blame Sylvia and her anarchic approach to entertainment journalism, which I followed from Smash Hits into NME � where the still-striking cover photo, taken as part of her bizarre quest to pass herself off as Alex James from Blur for an evening, originally comes from � on to Loaded and Neon and beyond. It’s thrilling to find so many of those memorable interviews, features and encounters recounted with the benefit of hindsight and lashings of often hair-raising behind-the-scenes backstory, but I’m Not With The Band isn’t all laughs. Or even laughings.
As well as covering her problematic upbringing and troubles in adult life with a commendable combination of wit, understanding and harrowingly relatable detail, Sylvia also knowingly charts the depressing rise of celebrity culture and the detrimental effect it has had on us all. At the start of the book, she’s able to ask even the most inaccessible of global megastars ludicrous questions just to see their reactions, and if they weren’t amused then the joke was on them. By the end, she’s being physically ejected � by men � from interview rooms after deviating by one word from a list of pre-approved banal prompts about nothing. There’s also room for rumination on Twitter outrage, following her own experiences after being left in the firing line by a pop star who refused to hold their hand up for an ill-advised thing that they’d said, and conversely a couple of occasions when owning your own words and admitting when you’d got it wrong was the best course of action for everyone. Well, apart from Frankie Goes To Hollywood. Throughout it all, Sylvia keeps returning to poor old Milli Vanilli, and the more innocent time when she could provoke them into an endless stream of gibberish about bikes with ‘big banana seats� and everyone saw the funny side and they still kept on selling records � and Smash Hits kept on selling full stop � regardless. After all they had sold the most records on cassette single in the world but didn’t want anyone to know as they were very quiet persons who did not like to brag.
Not long afterwards, for the hideous crime of not having sung on their own records, ‘Rob� and ‘Fab� became the victims of international outrage while the actual industry types who perpetrated the entire scam walked away unscathed. Their career was wrecked, and ‘Rob� later took his own life, and that was 1990; one really does shudder to think what would happen to them now. There probably aren’t many places that you’ll find a good word said about Milli Vanilli now, but this fantastic book celebrates them and so many others from an era when even the most zzzzzzzzzzztastic of mainstream plank-spankers could seem, well, almost fun. And maybe, just maybe, the more we get to look back and see where we’ve got a bit lost, the more likely it is that everything might start to swing back in that direction. How’s about that then, ‘Albert�?
June 19, 2023
4.5 stars.
I LOVED Smash Hits. I’d count down to the Wednesday of publication and pour over it. It still hurts my heart that those days are over and the magazine industry as it was back then, no longer exists. So as an avid Smash Hits fan I remember Sylvia Patterson from her journalist days there & as she moved onto other magazines which I also read. So I was keen to hear her story.
It’s an interesting one for sure, it is definitely a life well lived. Her Smash Hits days were bonkers, and the people she’s met along the way blew my mind. I loved hearing about her meeting with Prince, one of the few ever to get an audience with him. Then there’s Kylie, Oasis, Black Grape to name drop just a tiny few.
It did take me a while to get into but once I did I was transfixed. As a kid I dreamt of running off to London
& becoming a journalist, pretty much exactly what Sylvia did. But actually it seemed like a bloody hard slog so I’m glad I didn’t bother. Sylvia comes across as a normal person, untouched by her brushes with fame and I really related to her.
Filled with fascinating pop star anecdotes highlighting the glitz and glamour of celebrity life, in comparison with the author often struggling to make ends meet, this is a real juxtaposition of extremes. The highs and lows of the magazine and music industry make for compelling reading and I loved every page.
I LOVED Smash Hits. I’d count down to the Wednesday of publication and pour over it. It still hurts my heart that those days are over and the magazine industry as it was back then, no longer exists. So as an avid Smash Hits fan I remember Sylvia Patterson from her journalist days there & as she moved onto other magazines which I also read. So I was keen to hear her story.
It’s an interesting one for sure, it is definitely a life well lived. Her Smash Hits days were bonkers, and the people she’s met along the way blew my mind. I loved hearing about her meeting with Prince, one of the few ever to get an audience with him. Then there’s Kylie, Oasis, Black Grape to name drop just a tiny few.
It did take me a while to get into but once I did I was transfixed. As a kid I dreamt of running off to London
& becoming a journalist, pretty much exactly what Sylvia did. But actually it seemed like a bloody hard slog so I’m glad I didn’t bother. Sylvia comes across as a normal person, untouched by her brushes with fame and I really related to her.
Filled with fascinating pop star anecdotes highlighting the glitz and glamour of celebrity life, in comparison with the author often struggling to make ends meet, this is a real juxtaposition of extremes. The highs and lows of the magazine and music industry make for compelling reading and I loved every page.
August 30, 2016
A friend told me to read this and she was quite right; it turns out that Sylvia Patterson is probably the most formative influence on my writing style, and responsible for me still starting every other sentence with "Jings!" or "Crikey!". It also turns out that she wrote a lot of the pop interviews that have stuck in my memory, like the Milli Vanilli interview about their favourite vegetables, the Housemartins being asked if they ever grew parsnips in a gumboot, and the joyful NME article about Spike Milligan that gets a whole chapter here. So this was all delightful, and at the same time I empathised a lot with the story of getting a bit stuck in a young person's job and forgetting to grow up. Topnotch!
October 26, 2017
A right good read, although it does end on a somewhat depressing note with regards to the soul-destroying rise and rise of celebrity culture; there's an early hint of how this all pans out during an interview with Lily Allen where she just puts the barriers up immediately, sensing that Patterson is trying to find an 'angle' for a cheap headline. At least Allen does self-censoring - the last couple of chapters of the book focus on how PR companies have become a suffocating firewall, meaning that the chance of getting an actual opinion out of anyone once they reach a certain level of fame is more or less impossible these days.
Thank god then, for the first three quarters of the book, which are a riot. Following Patterson's career, moving down from Dundee to work at Smash Hits, which undoubtedly sounds like the happiest spell of her working life, and then on to her days working freelance for the likes of NME, which is where the really interesting (and often hilarious) interviews come. Highlights for me were chats with the likes of Oasis, Prince, Johnny Cash, Richey Edwards, Spike Milligan, Happy Mondays, U2, and oddly enough, Westlife. Plus, she doesn't speak well of Damon Albarn, which pleased me no end. Her interview with Madonna is pretty revealing - for a woman who seems to have come from another planet and who gives the impression of being in charge of EVERYTHING around her, she comes off as a bit insecure, sad, and pretty ordinary. And then come the later chapters where Patterson goes into great detail about The Fame Machine, where meetings with the likes of Beyonce, Kylie Minogue, David Beckham (and the chapter about Britney Spears which would be hilarious if it wasn't actually a bit scary) are revealing in how little they actually reveal about the individuals involved. But maybe they have the right idea in the age of social media - which is the point I think Patterson is making in the chapter about Amy Winehouse, and how the media and paparazzi, camped outside her door and offering to go and buy her vodka to get more pictures of her in a state for the next days front page, ate her up and spat her out. It's a sobering way to end the book, but it's essential reading for anyone who likes their music - and it's huge fun for the most part.
Thank god then, for the first three quarters of the book, which are a riot. Following Patterson's career, moving down from Dundee to work at Smash Hits, which undoubtedly sounds like the happiest spell of her working life, and then on to her days working freelance for the likes of NME, which is where the really interesting (and often hilarious) interviews come. Highlights for me were chats with the likes of Oasis, Prince, Johnny Cash, Richey Edwards, Spike Milligan, Happy Mondays, U2, and oddly enough, Westlife. Plus, she doesn't speak well of Damon Albarn, which pleased me no end. Her interview with Madonna is pretty revealing - for a woman who seems to have come from another planet and who gives the impression of being in charge of EVERYTHING around her, she comes off as a bit insecure, sad, and pretty ordinary. And then come the later chapters where Patterson goes into great detail about The Fame Machine, where meetings with the likes of Beyonce, Kylie Minogue, David Beckham (and the chapter about Britney Spears which would be hilarious if it wasn't actually a bit scary) are revealing in how little they actually reveal about the individuals involved. But maybe they have the right idea in the age of social media - which is the point I think Patterson is making in the chapter about Amy Winehouse, and how the media and paparazzi, camped outside her door and offering to go and buy her vodka to get more pictures of her in a state for the next days front page, ate her up and spat her out. It's a sobering way to end the book, but it's essential reading for anyone who likes their music - and it's huge fun for the most part.
August 3, 2016
Two thumbs aloft!
May 7, 2023
I loved this book, not only for Sylvia Patterson's brilliant and often hilarious descriptions of her interviews with some of the biggest music stars on the planet over the years. These are great, as are her endless references to obscure 90s chart hits I honestly thought no-one else remembered but me and my younger brother. But what makes it a five star book is how she takes all this stuff and pulls it all together to make something really meaningful, a genuinely thoughtful reflection on life and what it's all about.
October 21, 2022
As a reader of Smash Hits in the late 1980’s, I remembered Sylvia Patterson’s writing and also the daftness of ‘ver Hits�. Irreverent, ridiculous but never patronising. I enjoyed this part of the story but it does dip a little when it enters the 1990’s. I’m not sure I could have taken another drinks and drugs story from BritPop London. The book really comes into its own thereafter when it becomes an alternative parallel history of the UK through the decline of the music press, the corporate takeover of music and the change from 1980’s ridiculousness with celebrities (“Have you ever been sick down your cleavage?�) to stage managed PR interviews where nothing interesting can ever be asked or said. The chapter on the Beckhams perfume launch is like a Huxley dystopian nightmare - except it happened. The author is funny, honest and perceptive throughout.
October 9, 2019
What an honest book and a real good memoir.
I really liked Sylvia's style of writing and it kept me interested until the end.
Funny enough the parts about the musicians and the celebrities where less interesting than her own adventures and opinions on life.
This was what you call an unexpected surprise; I started reading it for the sex, drugs and rock and roll and ended up with a book that gave me a touching reflection on the world, life and our role in it.
I really liked Sylvia's style of writing and it kept me interested until the end.
Funny enough the parts about the musicians and the celebrities where less interesting than her own adventures and opinions on life.
This was what you call an unexpected surprise; I started reading it for the sex, drugs and rock and roll and ended up with a book that gave me a touching reflection on the world, life and our role in it.
July 30, 2018
“I’m not with the band� is partly a memoir, partly a compendium of interviews with the biggest pop stars of the last 30 years, but primarily an elegy for the slow decline of the British music papers and the death of music journalism. In this riveting book, Sylvia Patterson, veteran writer with Smash Hits, Q, NME and just about every music publication in the UK over the last 3 decades, recounts her adventures and encounters during the golden age of the music press.
“I’m not with the band� is superb at portraying the nerve-shredding precariousness of life as a freelance music hack, where within the space of a week you could go from interviewing a megastar like Prince or Mariah Carey to being turfed out of your bedsit hovel by a rapacious landlord. These paradoxes provide some of the most biting sections of the book, where Patterson recounts how the collapse of the music industry since 2000 � from the death of the music papers to the demise of so many of the record shops and record labels � has made it nigh on impossible for a generation of writers (and many musicians) to scrape anything approximating a living.
As insightful as this analysis might be, it could make for a disheartening read � if it weren’t for the fact that “I’m not with the band� is so frequently uproariously funny. Sylvia Patterson is a gloriously irreverent writer and interviewer, determined to burst the pomposity of any pop star bore who takes themselves too seriously. However, she maintains a true fan’s belief in the transcendent power of music, and the right � nay, duty � of the rock and pop idol to be as outrageous, ridiculous or just plan mental as possible.
The access that Patterson gets to the stars (at least during the first half of her career) is incredible. She gets to interview Prince one-on-one in his Paisley Park mansion � and ask him about his erections. She talks to Noel Gallagher the morning after 9/11 about Osama Bin Laden and Coldplay. She chats to Beyonce about vomit. She meets Madonna for an in-depth interview during the Material Girl diva’s blissed-out-of-her-chakras earth-mother phase. She inadvertently breaks up Frankie Goes to Hollywood. And another of her fractious encounters is possibly responsible for Bernard Sumner from New Order getting divorced.
This is why “I’m not with the band� is also a lament for a time where pop stars seemed to be otherworldly beings beamed in from another dimension, and seemingly had the freedom to say anything as batshit crazy as they wanted to in interviews. Now, as Patterson despondingly notes towards the end of her book, most high-profile musicians era are too guarded or blandly careerist to say anything remotely interesting for fear that will fall foul of their PR handlers or be clobbered by the inevitable social media pile-on. Not only would Patterson no longer be able to get access to the rollcall of stars listed above; there are barely any (paying) music publications left to carry an such interviews.
It’s not just the pop aristocracy or her industry that Patterson is unsparing towards; she is brutally frank when discussing her chaotic personal life (the parts of “I’m not with the band� where she discusses her relationship with her alcoholic mother are particularly harrowing). This kind of searing honesty counterbalances the hilarious rock ‘n� roll japes recounted elsewhere, and add an extra layer of poignancy to “I’m not with the band�. This is a book which, when all is said and done, is a nostalgia-laden lament for a rapidly disappearing world.
“I’m not with the band� is superb at portraying the nerve-shredding precariousness of life as a freelance music hack, where within the space of a week you could go from interviewing a megastar like Prince or Mariah Carey to being turfed out of your bedsit hovel by a rapacious landlord. These paradoxes provide some of the most biting sections of the book, where Patterson recounts how the collapse of the music industry since 2000 � from the death of the music papers to the demise of so many of the record shops and record labels � has made it nigh on impossible for a generation of writers (and many musicians) to scrape anything approximating a living.
As insightful as this analysis might be, it could make for a disheartening read � if it weren’t for the fact that “I’m not with the band� is so frequently uproariously funny. Sylvia Patterson is a gloriously irreverent writer and interviewer, determined to burst the pomposity of any pop star bore who takes themselves too seriously. However, she maintains a true fan’s belief in the transcendent power of music, and the right � nay, duty � of the rock and pop idol to be as outrageous, ridiculous or just plan mental as possible.
The access that Patterson gets to the stars (at least during the first half of her career) is incredible. She gets to interview Prince one-on-one in his Paisley Park mansion � and ask him about his erections. She talks to Noel Gallagher the morning after 9/11 about Osama Bin Laden and Coldplay. She chats to Beyonce about vomit. She meets Madonna for an in-depth interview during the Material Girl diva’s blissed-out-of-her-chakras earth-mother phase. She inadvertently breaks up Frankie Goes to Hollywood. And another of her fractious encounters is possibly responsible for Bernard Sumner from New Order getting divorced.
This is why “I’m not with the band� is also a lament for a time where pop stars seemed to be otherworldly beings beamed in from another dimension, and seemingly had the freedom to say anything as batshit crazy as they wanted to in interviews. Now, as Patterson despondingly notes towards the end of her book, most high-profile musicians era are too guarded or blandly careerist to say anything remotely interesting for fear that will fall foul of their PR handlers or be clobbered by the inevitable social media pile-on. Not only would Patterson no longer be able to get access to the rollcall of stars listed above; there are barely any (paying) music publications left to carry an such interviews.
It’s not just the pop aristocracy or her industry that Patterson is unsparing towards; she is brutally frank when discussing her chaotic personal life (the parts of “I’m not with the band� where she discusses her relationship with her alcoholic mother are particularly harrowing). This kind of searing honesty counterbalances the hilarious rock ‘n� roll japes recounted elsewhere, and add an extra layer of poignancy to “I’m not with the band�. This is a book which, when all is said and done, is a nostalgia-laden lament for a rapidly disappearing world.
October 25, 2023
I finished this book months ago but hadn't marked it as read as I wanted to write a review that was more than a sentence!
Sylvia Patterson's name was familiar to me, but I didn't realise just how much of her work I had read as a music fan growing up in the 80s, 90s and early 2000's. As an 'A' Level student, one of my favourite projects was comparing and contrasting three music press reports on Madonna around the launch of her 'Ray of Light' album from different publications - Patterson's article published in the NME was one of those - so being able to read the writer's account of heading to a swanky London hotel to interview her Madgesty in the late 90s before writing that piece was a treat, as well as discovering Madonna's response to the published article!
Similarly, her 'apology to Eminem' published in the Face magazine several years later, inspired me so much I wrote an impassioned fanzine rant about it! (which probably all of about 8 people read at the time).
Chocked full of entertaining adventures including attending a Prince album launch at his own home, hanging out with pop twins Bros or conversations with David Attenborough, Spike Milligan and Johnny Cash; I love reading stories of aspiring journalists heading to big cities to make it in the media industry and the sheer scale of the number of artists, celebrities and bands Sylvia has interviewed over the years made every page in this autobiography thoroughly readable.
Sylvia Patterson's name was familiar to me, but I didn't realise just how much of her work I had read as a music fan growing up in the 80s, 90s and early 2000's. As an 'A' Level student, one of my favourite projects was comparing and contrasting three music press reports on Madonna around the launch of her 'Ray of Light' album from different publications - Patterson's article published in the NME was one of those - so being able to read the writer's account of heading to a swanky London hotel to interview her Madgesty in the late 90s before writing that piece was a treat, as well as discovering Madonna's response to the published article!
Similarly, her 'apology to Eminem' published in the Face magazine several years later, inspired me so much I wrote an impassioned fanzine rant about it! (which probably all of about 8 people read at the time).
Chocked full of entertaining adventures including attending a Prince album launch at his own home, hanging out with pop twins Bros or conversations with David Attenborough, Spike Milligan and Johnny Cash; I love reading stories of aspiring journalists heading to big cities to make it in the media industry and the sheer scale of the number of artists, celebrities and bands Sylvia has interviewed over the years made every page in this autobiography thoroughly readable.
April 18, 2023
so special!! this felt like one big in joke between music journos, a nudge nudge about not listening to someone's new album before interviewing them, not being able to finish a review on time because you got a little bit too merry, and treating every job as one big joyous 'wheeze'. it's comforting to know that we've all been flapping about in a dying industry since the very beginning, but it's also really, really SAD and made me a bit weepy!!! well and truly RIP music journalism (and all journalism really). don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened etc etc.
sylv, i can only hope to have a "career"/life as fun yours, and i think i might be getting there (i'll probably never interview beyoncé but hey ho).
(could go on about this forever but i'll stop now, thank you slyvia patterson)
sylv, i can only hope to have a "career"/life as fun yours, and i think i might be getting there (i'll probably never interview beyoncé but hey ho).
(could go on about this forever but i'll stop now, thank you slyvia patterson)
January 16, 2020
An exhilarating memoir from music journalist Sylvia Patterson. Her tales of the rollicking days of interviewing access all areas pop stars are gut-bustingly funny, as you'd expect from a writer for Smash Hits in its irreverant heyday. Patterson cares deeply about music - but not the earnest kind of 'cool' music that has to be taken seriously; it's the bright, sparkly, joyousness of pop she loves, and part of the charm of the book is the righteous anger she feels as pop stars become homogenised, bland, and 'meeja-trained'. Her own voice -clever, bright and funny - shines through every anecdote, as she recounts quizzing the likes of Prince, Madonna, George Michael and Amy Winehouse. There are blows to the heart as well as the funny bone: painfully honest sections dealing with family deaths and her three miscarriages are powerful, brave and moving. In the words of 'Ver Hits' - I think this is 'Swingorilliant'. "So do I, mate,": Boris Becker.
March 14, 2021
In another life I’d have loved to have been a music journalist (not that I have much of a career rn lol). This was equal parts insightful and funny. Thoroughly enjoyed. Definitely for fans of Caitlin Moran.
December 4, 2017
An interesting look at music journalism written in an engaging fashion with lots of quips and tales about a variety of music acts from Bros to Manics to Oasis. A highly enjoyable memoir.
July 28, 2023
Fantastic read brilliant read written with humour and emotions.
October 2, 2020
As celebratory as it was, it was equally poignant reading the family stuff, life/work challenges and the slow decline of the music press (and industry). Considering the time that’d elapsed, I remembered a lot of the interview snippets included in the book (especially the NME and Q articles).
What’s particularly sad is the ‘Goodbye Yellow Brick Road� page at the back where she leaves space for the ‘next lot� of magazines consigned to the dumper, reading it and knowing that Q came to an end two months ago. I do hope Sylvia is doing alright.
What’s particularly sad is the ‘Goodbye Yellow Brick Road� page at the back where she leaves space for the ‘next lot� of magazines consigned to the dumper, reading it and knowing that Q came to an end two months ago. I do hope Sylvia is doing alright.
August 14, 2016
Writing mainly for Smash Hits and NME, Sylvia has a career which sounds enviable apart from the financial insecurity and the rather scary situations you find yourself in if you’ve annoyed Cypress Hill and Eminem. Although some of the bands and musicians she talks about are not to my taste, a great many of them are (she’s actually a massive Goth, despite the Smash Hits job). Sylvia’s obsessive love of music chimes with my own so I loved this book. She has met some amazing personalities (and is one herself I think). Just to whet your appetite, this book contains meetings with; Spike Milligan, David Attenborough, Noel Gallagher, Kylie, Bros, Shaun Ryder, Posh and Becks, Johnny Cash and many, many more (as those records made by K-Tel and sold in Woollies always used to say). Written with an emotional honesty that makes for a sad read at times this book is just wonderful. It’s full of musical nostalgia and at the end provides an interesting industry insiders view on the state of popular music today. Reading her book convinced me I wanted to be a music journalist in printed media and then at the end of the book she shows how that job has all but vanished as a viable career option.
Read
September 27, 2017My favourite music book is 'Lost in Music' by Giles Smith which I've read 13 times. Nice to read a book which is similar but with a female voice. A crack up/break down account of being a music journalist for 'Smash Hits' during its heyday in the mid to late 80s (it actually sold a million copies a fortnight. Different media landscape then, eh?) from a working class Scottish lass. Elevates the rock memoir genre and is a good example of what a good music memoir can be - insight, personal experience, music writing, all in a singular voice which is very cynical and hilarious. I used to buy 'Smash Hits' with my pocket money for the Bros, John Farnham, Kylie & Jason lyrics and pull out posters.
February 13, 2021
I really, really didn't enjoy this book.
Its the memoir of a writer throughout the 80s, 90s and now and her understanding of how the music journalism scene has changed.
What I really didn't like was the constant interviews with some of Pops bygone heroes, and the constant name dropping of the famous people she hung out with. I didn't enjoy the parts about the celebrities that were on often, and found Sylvia's' life far more interesting. Ultimately, whilst her writing style has clearly kept her in the business for three decades, the stories and interviews left me feeling cold.
I was finally glad to finish this book.
Its the memoir of a writer throughout the 80s, 90s and now and her understanding of how the music journalism scene has changed.
What I really didn't like was the constant interviews with some of Pops bygone heroes, and the constant name dropping of the famous people she hung out with. I didn't enjoy the parts about the celebrities that were on often, and found Sylvia's' life far more interesting. Ultimately, whilst her writing style has clearly kept her in the business for three decades, the stories and interviews left me feeling cold.
I was finally glad to finish this book.
July 17, 2016
Half music journalism biography , half autobiography and an extra 10% (which makes an impossible total) about what went wrong / right with pop music and journalism (hint: celebrity culture and the fun-vacuum that is PR total control and a fear of Actual Opinions).
Middle-aged pop kids will love this book. I did.
Middle-aged pop kids will love this book. I did.
October 30, 2016
Hugely enjoyable read. As a journalist for Smash Hits/NME/Q and more, Patterson is perfectly placed to chronicle the evolution of celebrity culture, and she does it really well (even if some of her sentences meander a bit). Filled with tales of the stars she's interviewed, from Milli Vanilli to David Attenborough, it's a pop culture lover's dream.
July 26, 2022
I really wanted to like it and pushed my way through it but it felt like a balloon that just deflated the more it went on. There were a few interested tidbits on the people she got to meet including many cringeworthy moments but all in all was not an enjoyable read.
January 18, 2023
This was a strange read. I liked bits of it, other bits not so much. Her personal story were the interesting bits, along with a few (very few) of the celeb interviews. Her use of 'ver' just got on my nerves by the end.
May 28, 2018
The best non-fiction book of the year by a mile. I can't really articulate how meaningful it was to me and I hope Patterson wants to write more long-form work.
June 17, 2021
I found this book to be an enjoyable read. It follows music journalist Sylvia Patterson throughout her life with the main focus being on her years working for Smash Hits, NME, Glamour and her freelance work. It is packed full of first-hand anecdotes covering the 1980's to the early 2000's. On the face of it it's a book about the world of music but there is an underlying theme where Sylvia attempts to find the answer to the meaning of life. In addition to this because it follows a career of over 30 years in music journalism it becomes an examination of how the music world has changed over the years, how the way in which the public consume music has changed with the rise of the internet and streaming and how the popstars themselves have changed in the face of the celebrity obsessed culture that exists today. In my opinion this elevates the book from being a bland book featuring anecdote after anecdote and gives it more substance.
Almost every chapter centres around a different band or artist with each providing an interesting insight in to their world from the perspective of an outsider looking in. Some of the bands and artists included are Prince, New Order, Britney Spears, Noel and Liam Gallagher, U2, The Manic Street Preachers, Westlife, Eminem, Cypress Hill and many more. Without giving anything away some of the anecdotes are funny, some of them are shocking and some of them are just strange.
A few of the chapters that I enjoyed the most were the ones covering the Britpop era, it is/was portrayed by many as a time of happy music where indie artists and the UK in general were thriving but this book shows the dark underbelly of this scene. I also enjoyed the chapter on Westlife and the chapter on U2. I thought Westlife showed themselves to be graceful, intelligent, savvy professionals in the face of Sylvia's sometimes mean questioning and I guess that time has proven them to have the last laugh as 20 years on their career is still going strong. As for U2, like many others I had always subscribed to the media-forced view that Bono is a virtue signalling annoyant, this book has changed my opinion on him, during the chapter on U2 he showed himself to be up for a laugh, aware of himself and the way he is perceived in the media.
Initially I felt that the writing style didn't flow that well (think Smash Hits) but I soon got in to it and loved the hint of Smash Hits nostalgia I got from the writing.
It should be noted that whilst this book focuses 90% on the music industry, Sylvia does at times open up and talk about her life outside it with particular focus on her miscarriages and her relationship with her alcoholic mother and how this affected her life outside of her career, she writes with such sensitivity on these topics that I think most readers will find themselves shedding a tear.
It is a really good book, it manages to be funny, emotional and shocking. I'd recommend it to anyone with any interest in music.
Almost every chapter centres around a different band or artist with each providing an interesting insight in to their world from the perspective of an outsider looking in. Some of the bands and artists included are Prince, New Order, Britney Spears, Noel and Liam Gallagher, U2, The Manic Street Preachers, Westlife, Eminem, Cypress Hill and many more. Without giving anything away some of the anecdotes are funny, some of them are shocking and some of them are just strange.
A few of the chapters that I enjoyed the most were the ones covering the Britpop era, it is/was portrayed by many as a time of happy music where indie artists and the UK in general were thriving but this book shows the dark underbelly of this scene. I also enjoyed the chapter on Westlife and the chapter on U2. I thought Westlife showed themselves to be graceful, intelligent, savvy professionals in the face of Sylvia's sometimes mean questioning and I guess that time has proven them to have the last laugh as 20 years on their career is still going strong. As for U2, like many others I had always subscribed to the media-forced view that Bono is a virtue signalling annoyant, this book has changed my opinion on him, during the chapter on U2 he showed himself to be up for a laugh, aware of himself and the way he is perceived in the media.
Initially I felt that the writing style didn't flow that well (think Smash Hits) but I soon got in to it and loved the hint of Smash Hits nostalgia I got from the writing.
It should be noted that whilst this book focuses 90% on the music industry, Sylvia does at times open up and talk about her life outside it with particular focus on her miscarriages and her relationship with her alcoholic mother and how this affected her life outside of her career, she writes with such sensitivity on these topics that I think most readers will find themselves shedding a tear.
It is a really good book, it manages to be funny, emotional and shocking. I'd recommend it to anyone with any interest in music.
August 8, 2018
I happened upon Sylvia by way of Bernard Sumner, actually Peter Hook's book "Substance: Inside New Order". The terrible incident between Sylvia and NO left me not liking either, New Order a little less. I wanted to read her side of the story. Ironically Sylvia's side left me cheering for New Order. Maybe that proves how honest she is.
Other readers have described the concept of this book, a history of Sylvia's journey through the British music press during the 80s, 90s and 2000s, interviewing everyone from Shaun Ryder to Mariah Carey and Johnny Cash. At times (new order) I felt like Sylvia was too paparazzi. But her dedication to music and funny writing style ultimately won me over. Like one other reviewer pointed out, the contrasts between high and low her personal life, occupying unfit moldy apartments, while being whisked off in 1st class to interview David Beckham, is totally surreal. Her honesty is brutal and she's great at crafting a story or a letter. I loved her brilliant tell-off to NME, which she never hit "send" on. I'm so glad she published it here.
I have to disagree with Sylvia on a couple of major points. Although we are the same age, I prefer the 80s while she prefers the 90s. This is probably a matter of taste. But the 80s, however plastic, were romantic and hopeful and smooth. New Order, and ABC and Roxy Music's Avalon. Even John Lydon grooved to a disco beat with "Live in Japan". The 90s were poor and draggy and druggy and reality-bitten - Portishead and Hole and then Radiohead. Gotta love the brutal intensity but I'll take optimism any day.
Also I disagree with Sylvia that rock musicians should continue to be open and opinionated today. They can't in this era of hyper social media. She, if anyone, knows this. She witnessed first hand the exchange between Warpaint, Beyonce, Rihanna and a thousand trolls. The opinions expressed. The shaming. the threats. The backpedaling. Who needs it? I can't blame the Taylor Swifts or Ed Sheeran's from talking only about "safe" subjects or even not giving interviews. The music is the expressive part.
Sylvia's book is a memory of a lost era of high jinx and expressive freedom in music. I'm glad she wrote it down.
Other readers have described the concept of this book, a history of Sylvia's journey through the British music press during the 80s, 90s and 2000s, interviewing everyone from Shaun Ryder to Mariah Carey and Johnny Cash. At times (new order) I felt like Sylvia was too paparazzi. But her dedication to music and funny writing style ultimately won me over. Like one other reviewer pointed out, the contrasts between high and low her personal life, occupying unfit moldy apartments, while being whisked off in 1st class to interview David Beckham, is totally surreal. Her honesty is brutal and she's great at crafting a story or a letter. I loved her brilliant tell-off to NME, which she never hit "send" on. I'm so glad she published it here.
I have to disagree with Sylvia on a couple of major points. Although we are the same age, I prefer the 80s while she prefers the 90s. This is probably a matter of taste. But the 80s, however plastic, were romantic and hopeful and smooth. New Order, and ABC and Roxy Music's Avalon. Even John Lydon grooved to a disco beat with "Live in Japan". The 90s were poor and draggy and druggy and reality-bitten - Portishead and Hole and then Radiohead. Gotta love the brutal intensity but I'll take optimism any day.
Also I disagree with Sylvia that rock musicians should continue to be open and opinionated today. They can't in this era of hyper social media. She, if anyone, knows this. She witnessed first hand the exchange between Warpaint, Beyonce, Rihanna and a thousand trolls. The opinions expressed. The shaming. the threats. The backpedaling. Who needs it? I can't blame the Taylor Swifts or Ed Sheeran's from talking only about "safe" subjects or even not giving interviews. The music is the expressive part.
Sylvia's book is a memory of a lost era of high jinx and expressive freedom in music. I'm glad she wrote it down.
December 17, 2024
The world of music publishing and writing is not what it used to be when Sylvia Patterson first made her mark in popular culture. She worked at Smash Hits, the NME, Loaded and other magazines so she speaks and writes from experience with eloquence and wit. Then we knew less of the personal lives of personalities, and less about music production, so being able to spend time with figures from the 1980s and 1990s pop culture was a rarefied life, and luckily writers like Sylvia Patterson were there to document it all for us.
We find out about stars such as Madonna, or how New Order’s Bernard Sumner still seems to hold a grudge. There are tales of generations of pop stars here, some still famous, some now infamous, some that have faded from the stage, to never leave any impression at all.
As well as the music, there are also the storied adventures of young adult life from the time. The seeming glamour of working for best-selling music magazines, and moving in certain circles, but knowing that things could end anytime. The wrong story, even the wrong heading (often the responsibility of sub-editors, rather than the writer) being able to remove the writer from lists forever.
We learn of the stress, the competition, the bad diets and living conditions, unsuitable shoes and more unsuitable romantic entanglements. We learn of her troubled relationship with her troubled mother, but there are also some elements of the book that may only interest some people
It is a bit of good luck at the business of music, and how it is now micro-managed by brands and content creators. In its day, The NME was a rebellious magazine, like Melody Maker, they were irreverent, able to see how po-faced and serious some bands were, and had the power to burst that bubble of pomposity.
In the 1980’s and 1990’s, the world of magazine writing welcomed talents and characters who could write and there was a career there that could pay the very lucky people who were in the right place at the right time. There are middle-aged people walking around now who listen to music recommended to them by figures such as John Peel, or the writers in the magazines. It is good that those times are still remembered and celebrated in books like this one.
We find out about stars such as Madonna, or how New Order’s Bernard Sumner still seems to hold a grudge. There are tales of generations of pop stars here, some still famous, some now infamous, some that have faded from the stage, to never leave any impression at all.
As well as the music, there are also the storied adventures of young adult life from the time. The seeming glamour of working for best-selling music magazines, and moving in certain circles, but knowing that things could end anytime. The wrong story, even the wrong heading (often the responsibility of sub-editors, rather than the writer) being able to remove the writer from lists forever.
We learn of the stress, the competition, the bad diets and living conditions, unsuitable shoes and more unsuitable romantic entanglements. We learn of her troubled relationship with her troubled mother, but there are also some elements of the book that may only interest some people
It is a bit of good luck at the business of music, and how it is now micro-managed by brands and content creators. In its day, The NME was a rebellious magazine, like Melody Maker, they were irreverent, able to see how po-faced and serious some bands were, and had the power to burst that bubble of pomposity.
In the 1980’s and 1990’s, the world of magazine writing welcomed talents and characters who could write and there was a career there that could pay the very lucky people who were in the right place at the right time. There are middle-aged people walking around now who listen to music recommended to them by figures such as John Peel, or the writers in the magazines. It is good that those times are still remembered and celebrated in books like this one.
dnf
October 20, 2022DNF @ page 105.
Typical. I pick up a nonfiction book for the first time in forever, thinking I'm ready, and it's boring.
This book packaging worked its magic on me. i'm not with the band appears to be right up my street - a book about music and writing, infused with nostalgia and humour. But the reality was far from the fun read I wanted.
Admittedly, Sylvia Patterson's idea of nostalgia was never going to match up to mine given that we grew up decades apart. But I was hopeful that this nostalgia and revisit to the past would be well-written and inclusive enough to help me enjoy it regardless, as I did in Ready Player One and Daisy Jones & The Six. Evidently, without the freeform of fiction, this wasn't realistic. I really struggled to understand any of Patterson's references and they are constant, so entire pages of writing were completely lost on me.
This isn't helped by Patterson's writing style, which is dominated by long-winded and rambling sentences. I think this contributed to the humorous tone, but in the meantime complicated and tangled her references so they were even harder to decipher.
As a final point, I also didn't much enjoy the nonchalant chaos of Patterson's early life and career, which I felt was romanticised. When I'm expecting to read about someone's life and career in a rapidly changing and exciting industry, reading of parties and smoking and purposelessness is boring. I don't know how things progress, but Patterson's attitude towards life would have had to change quite dramatically to actually get me interested in reading about it.
The search for enjoyable nonfic continues. This blip will probably delay my endeavours by another few months though. Oops.
Typical. I pick up a nonfiction book for the first time in forever, thinking I'm ready, and it's boring.
This book packaging worked its magic on me. i'm not with the band appears to be right up my street - a book about music and writing, infused with nostalgia and humour. But the reality was far from the fun read I wanted.
Admittedly, Sylvia Patterson's idea of nostalgia was never going to match up to mine given that we grew up decades apart. But I was hopeful that this nostalgia and revisit to the past would be well-written and inclusive enough to help me enjoy it regardless, as I did in Ready Player One and Daisy Jones & The Six. Evidently, without the freeform of fiction, this wasn't realistic. I really struggled to understand any of Patterson's references and they are constant, so entire pages of writing were completely lost on me.
This isn't helped by Patterson's writing style, which is dominated by long-winded and rambling sentences. I think this contributed to the humorous tone, but in the meantime complicated and tangled her references so they were even harder to decipher.
As a final point, I also didn't much enjoy the nonchalant chaos of Patterson's early life and career, which I felt was romanticised. When I'm expecting to read about someone's life and career in a rapidly changing and exciting industry, reading of parties and smoking and purposelessness is boring. I don't know how things progress, but Patterson's attitude towards life would have had to change quite dramatically to actually get me interested in reading about it.
The search for enjoyable nonfic continues. This blip will probably delay my endeavours by another few months though. Oops.
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