Rockin' Christmas Books 3: "Faces - Before, During and After"

Yes yes, I know that Christmas has well and truly past us by! Some of you may still have the odd ornament hanging from your front door/wall in order to keep that "little bit of Christmas" throughout the year. One year when I was a kid we kept our (fake) tree up the whole year because Dad couldn't be arsed to put it back in the roof (from memory we grew mushrooms underneath it). However, I have been astonished in recent weeks to receive increased activity on this blog, principally in response to my review of Ace Frehley's book some weeks ago. Indeed, that particular review has had double the number of reads of any other of my posts. Now, it could be that KISS fans are insane (disclosure: I am one and am married to an even bigger one), or it could be that somewhere along the line I missed my calling to be the Antipodean Lester Bangs. All that money on theological college wasted. Neverthemore, I hereby present for your edification my thoughts on "Faces - Before, During and After" by Andy Neill.

Picture a concert by one of the great stadium rock acts of our age (U2, Foo Fighters, Bon Jovi, etc). Dazzling arrays of co-ordinated lighting. Special effects and pyrotechnics. Choreography. High levels of musicianship and professionalism...

This bears no resemblance to a concert by The Faces.

Instead imagine yourself at a no-frills music auditorium sometime in the early 1970s. On entering the venue you discover roadies passing out cheap bottles of plonk with the instruction to "have yerself a good time!" While you sip the revolting nectar you notice some movement on the side of the stage. Without any introduction, five drunk Londoners wander out, apparently arguing over what song to play first. The singer sports a tartan suit and a rooster haircut. The other members of the band wear a combination of glam fashion and whatever they happened to find on the floor of their hotel rooms. As they plug in it becomes apparent that they are painfully out of tune. Another argument ensues, until a stagehand brings out a tray of drinks and peace returns. Over the next two hours the band will play a rollicking rock 'n roll set, punctuated by many jokes and flubbed notes, until they are too tired and inebriated to continue, at which point they invite the audience to join them in a celebration at the local tavern.

Ladies and Gentlemen: The Faces! Over their too-short career they would have no #1 hit singles or albums, receive precious little critical praise (not that they cared), and never played a perfect show if they could help it. They were torn apart by creative and personal tensions, with two of the members going on to bigger and brighter things. Yet The Faces remain one of the greatest rock bands of all time - a direct influence on the Punk revolution and a touchstone for every young rock band since that loves it loud and bluesy. This latest biography is only the second serious modern work on the band after "Last Orders Please" by Jim Melly, which was as much a sociological study as a rock bio.

"Faces" is probably the most thorough work on the band to date. Neill is meticulous in his research and strives to create a vibrant narrative that is free from hagiography (not easy when the author is a fan of the subject). Along the way inconsistencies in the received tradition are ironed out and certain myths are dispelled. This is not to suggest that the book is dry - far from it! There are many stories of life on the road. In fact, there would have to be as The Faces seemed to spend a large part of their existence on a sort-of Neverending Tour. It's no wonder, in fact, that conflicts arose so quickly, especially when Rod Stewart's solo star began to rise in earnest. Hungover and jet-lagged is no way to run a band.

Perhaps the most frustrating thing about the book is that the story of The Faces is of a legend unfulfilled. Despite a solid place in rock history, they never were able to produce The Single that would cement them in the public mind forevermore. While a cool DJ might occasionally play "Stay With Me" on the radio, it's almost a guarantee that few listening would correctly identify the group. As a result there is no grand climax in this rather lengthy narrative. Just when you think you are getting somewhere the rug is dragged out from under you. Moreover, the members of the band don't stand close scrutiny very well. Rod Stewart and Ronnie Lane both come across as egocentric and petulant. Ronnie Wood is revealed as being a little self-destructive. Kenny Jones and Ian McLagan are just a couple of booze-soaked boys along for the ride, but even they are not immune to bouts of juvenile behaviour that no doubt hastened the demise of the group.

Neill's work is perhaps best classified as an Unauthorised Biography With Significant Assistance. Many insiders are thanked in the Acknowledgments, and McLagan was an enthusiastic collaborator. The other three surviving members gave no significant assistance to the work (though it is revealed that Ronnie Wood's memory of the period is so bad any stories he does have would be considered highly suspect). The rest of the book is diligent in chasing up facts.

So, who would like this book? Well, serious music history nerds like me will wish to read it more than once - there is so much trivia to digest that a cursory reading is nowhere near enough. Anyone who is a fan of British rhythm and blues music will definitely want to give it a look. However, those expecting the consistent tabloid fodder of Ace Frehley's autobiography will be disappointed. This is a serious piece of rock history, not for the faint-stomached, but well worth the meal!

See ya down the pub!

The ALP and Fatso The Fat-Arsed Wombat

Cast your minds back, dear readers, to the dawning of the new millennium - the year 2000. 'Twas a time of happiness and joy for those of us blessed to live in the Harbour City for a momentous event was ready to take place - the Sydney Olympic Games! Even the most jaded got into the spirit of things for that glorious two weeks. We shined our shoes, put away the Drop Bears routine, and tried to be as helpful as possible to the Unwashed Foreign Filth who had come for the celebrations and were trying to understand the complexities of our public transport system.

But 20 million Australians couldn't be on their best behaviour for that long! Someone was going to have to take the piss in a major way at some point. There were, naturally, only two men for the job...

Olympic Mascots have had a certain amount of Groan Factor for a number of decades now. Perhaps since LA '84 no-one has paid them much respect, but they are acknowledged as part of the kitsch that goes along with hosting the Games. For the Sydney Games the organizers came up with a particularly uninspiring set:

Not only were these nauseating natives extremely ugly, but the fact that there were THREE of the buggers screamed loudly that the Games Committee were less than optimistic about making their money back and had put the family silver on tripling their merchandising revenue. Such a balloon was ripe for bursting.

Enter "Rampaging" Roy Slaven and H.G. Nelson! Visitors to our shores (particularly those from the USA) were bewildered at the fact that not only were these two loonies conducting a public satire of this prestigious event (including merging Greco-Roman wrestling with Barry White music), but that they were allowed to be broadcast on the Official Television Channel in prime time! If American comedians had attempted something similar (assuming that they understood the concept of "satire") they would have been subject to a long stint in Guantanamo Bay.

Roy and H.G. unmasked the Official Mascots for what they were - a symbol of the fact that the Games had been removed from the control of the People. Australians would never have voted for these critters (soon dubbed "Syd Ollie & Dickhead") if they had been given a free choice. So Roy and H.G. put up their own mascot. One that could be embraced by the Australian Public. The Little Guy, the People's Prince...

Fatso The Big-Arsed Wombat!!!

Fatso was a sensation. His fame spread throughout the land, while the Games Committee did their best to stop it. The Australian athletes entered into the spirit of the rebellion, bringing Fatso up onto the podium and throwing him off the high diving board. In the end the Games Committee admitted defeat. A statue of Fatso is now a permanent fixture outside the Main Stadium at Homebush. To my knowledge, no memorial of Syd Ollie and Dickhead has yet been erected.

This morning a former Prime Minister, who was elected on a huge wave of popular support, was denied the opportunity of returning to the highest office by the same cabal who had knifed him in the back 20 months ago. Australian Labor Party ministers and members spewed forth vitriol of the most poisonous type over the weekend to defend their view that Kevin Rudd should never again be given the keys to the Lodge, even as the party heads towards a massive electoral defeat and the return of a conservative government. At the same time, popular support seemed welded solid to Mr Rudd, even as tales of mismanagement and temper tantrums flooded the airwaves. His polling has been significantly above that of Prime Minister Julia Gillard for well over a year. Overnight busloads of True Believers headed to Canberra to protest outside Parliament House, hoping against hope that their chosen leader, Kevin Rudd, would be brought back to lead our nation. Those hopes have now been dashed, and it is unlikely that they will ever be revived. Our elected representatives have chosen Syd Ollie & Dickhead over Fatso.

I am not a member of the ALP, my political loyalties lie elsewhere. I don't think the ALP made a bad decision today, I think they made bad choices long ago and today's leadership ballot was a consequence of repeated and systematic failures.

Note: I also think Kevin Rudd is in the wrong party. Kev, call me! It's not too late.

What the events of the last 5 days have taught us is that something is fundamentally wrong with the manner politics in our nation is being conducted. People have been complaining about the system, as though it is the system's fault that the will of the people is failing to be heard. But there is something much more rotten in the state of Orstrailya. The power is out of our hands. We can't choose who leads us. Faith is put in political parties that have long since stopped being accountable to the people they represent. What happened this morning should not, by all political logic, have happened - members of Parliament have voted in a way that has guaranteed that they will lose their seats in another 18 months. They no longer represent their electorates but their political masters. I'm not just picking on the ALP; the Libs are just as bad. But they have us all convinced that we have No Other Option but to go for the lesser of two evils when we put the slip of paper in the box. This, my friends, is a lie!

Fatso The Fat-Arsed Wombat has achieved something that few characters in Australian culture have - he has a Legacy. I imagine I will be explaining that statue at Homebush to my grandchildren one day. Whether Kevin Rudd will have a similar monument dedicated to him remains to be seen. He probably deserves one, given that he walked into the lion's den this morning on a matter of principle knowing that it was the will of the People, his true masters. Somehow, I don't think that those who have retained power today will be getting a monument of any sort.

J. Gresham Machen on Public and Private Education

I came across this quote recently and am using it in a speech tomorrow on the Christian Vote in Contemporary Australian Politics. I couldn't have said it better myself:

A public-school system, in itself, is indeed of enormous benefit to the race. But it is of benefit only if it is kept healthy at every moment by the absolutely free possibility of the competition of private schools. A public-school system, if it means the providing of free education for those who desire it, is a noteworthy and beneficent achievement of modern times; but when it becomes monopolistic it is the most perfect instrument of tyranny which has yet been devised. Freedom of thought in the middle ages was combated by the Inquisition, but the modern method is far more effective. Place the lives of children in their formative years, despite the convictions of the parents, under the intimate control of experts appointed by the state, force them to then to attend schools where the higher aspirations of humanity are crushed out, and where the mind is filled with the materialism of the day, and it is difficult to see how even the remnants of liberty can subsist. Such a tyranny, supported as it is by a perverse technique used as the instrument in destroying human souls, is certainly far more dangerous than the crude tyrannies of the past, which despite their weapons of fire and sword permitted thought at least to be free.

J. Gresham Machen. "Christianity & Liberalism", pp.11-12.

Reformed Romantics: Ezekiel 24 and the Death of Marriage

It has been a while since I posted, for which my sincere apologies. The business of preparing for and then receiving a new baby in the house has occupied my mind considerably. But Onwards and Upwards I say...

I'll also flag that it is at this point that my reflections on Biblical marriage will take a slight deviation from the mainstream. I'm also going to skip over a lot of material so we can move forward to Ezekiel 34, which I believe marks a turning point in God's plans for human marriage in relation to his plan of redemption.

Marriage as a human institution takes a bit of a backseat for most of the Old Testament. There are, of course, passages in the Torah regarding the regulation of marriage for the nation of Israel (e.g. Leviticus 18, Numbers 36). Following this, it is assumed that human marriage continues, with young people being given in marriage to each other, begetting children, and so progressing the covenant. When marriage is discussed it is usually when there is a problem (e.g. Samson's taking of a Philistine wife in Judges 14). These problems function as warning signs that spiritual trouble is not far away. Solomon's taking of many wives from foreign kingdoms and Jezabel's domination of Ahab may also be cited as examples. Song Of Songs is a notable exception, but the restraint and yearning of this romantic drama contrasts markedly with the absence of such behavior in actuality.

As Israel moves into the Prophetic Age, "unfaithful marriage" is an image used by the Pre-Exilic prophets in particular to describe the deterioration of the relationship between the Jewish nation and God. In all cases, God is described as the husband betrayed by an unfaithful wife (e.g. Jeremiah 3, Ezekiel 16). The prophet Hosea is even commanded to take a woman of soiled reputation as a public display of the shame that Israel has brought upon their God.

As the situation cannot continue, God eventually brings things to a head and judgment is visited on Israel and Judah in turn. Yet the question must be asked: does the end of the spiritual marriage between God and Israel signal an end (or at least a shift) in the physical marriage of Man and Woman?

I believe that the answer lies in Ezekiel 24:15-27 and the death of the wife of the prophet. For years I spent wondering if God was a Moral Monster. Here was a woman, who had apparently committed no great sin, brought to an early death by a God intent on making a point. Moreover, her husband was not allowed even to mourn for her death as a sign of the coming judgment. Ezekiel's pain is evident even through the restrained narrative. I could understand and accept God taking away an unfaithful wife as a symbol, but to wrench the delight of a man's eyes away from him seemed heartless and cruel.

After much thought, I have come to a tentative solution:

The death of Ezekiel's wife represents the end of human marriage as the central mode of covenant progression and identity.

What has struck me as I read through the promises of deliverance from exile in Ezekiel and Jeremiah in particular is that the concept of marriage is not "resurrected". God does not "divorce" his bride and then "remarry" again. The image of marriage is basically insignificant to the Post-Exilic prophets as well. Instead, the image of Jeremiah 31 and Ezekiel 36 is God forming a new covenant with the lost who have been scattered through their rebellion. Those who will be part of the New Covenant will be Spiritually rather than Physically begotten. However good human marriage remains in its created state, it will never occupy the same central role in the redeemed community as it did for Israel under the Old Covenant. Marriage will no longer be the procreative means to a redemptive end and will not theologically dominate the covenant community.

Rockin' Christmas Books 2: "No Regrets" by Ace Frehley

In the early 1970s American rock 'n roll was at a shockingly low ebb. Few of the superstars who ruled the heights of Woodstock survived into the following decade. New harder acts like The Stooges and Alice Cooper showed the way of the future but had little impact within the mainstream. From 1970 to 1973 British bands ruled the States - The Who, Stones, Yes, and (of course) Led Zeppelin. Then, astoundingly, the USA produced two bands who became primary influences on mainstream rock for the next two decades - Aerosmith and KISS.

Between them, Joe Perry and Ace Frehley encouraged a generation of teenage boys (who otherwise would have become climate scientists or health care professionals) to spend hours striking rockstar poses in front of their bedroom mirrors. Perry and Frehley took the blues-rock of the 60s British superstars (Peter Green, Mick Taylor, Clapton, Townshend, etc) and gave it a major American shot of adrenaline and glitz. While Perry has so far elected to Let The Music Do The Talking, Ace has recently shed some light on his glorious and alcohol-soaked career.

Let me start with some of the same gripes that I had about Tony Iommi's book. First up, No Regrets has to be one of the most unimaginative titles ever presented. It appears to have no reference to Ace's career. I can think of several better titles off the top of my head - Trouble Walkin', Insane, even Rock Soldier. It's the same Work Experience Kid doing the cover as well - boring fonts, boring pictures. Most unattractive.

These flaws are easily forgiven, however, because Ace Frehley is one hell of a storyteller! This book has everything the serious (or even casual) fan of KISS could want. KISS were never a band to do things by half, collectively and individually. Each of the four original members were given licence by their fame to indulge in their passions. For Ace, this involved alcohol, drugs, fast cars, and card games. In the midst of it all we have the story (from Ace's perspective) of the band who gave the world some of the greatest rock riffs of all time.

Unlike Iommi, Ace Frehley has no problem with exposing his own faults and failings. Car chases and accidents are recounted in gory detail. The reader learns that Frehley was (twice) saved from drowning while under the influence of alcohol by the eternally sober Gene Simmons. Many other stories of life on the road and experiences in the studio permeate the narrative. It is a gripping tale from first to last.

Of course, no great tale is complete without a great villain. Frehley's nemesis, unsurprisingly, is the driven bassist Simmons, who in the past has had some blunt assessments of the impact of Frehley's addictions on the well-being of the KISS brand. The animosity between the two dates to their first meeting, but neither could deny the chemistry that Frehley brought to the band. One of Frehley's aims in publishing this book is to directly refute some of the barbs that have come from Simmons over the years, as well as firing a few return shots of his own.

Of course, the book isn't perfect. Frehley does gloss over the less glamorous period of the late 1980s and dire predicament his career was in by the time of the reunion of KISS in 1996. Additionally, readers may be somewhat alarmed that he firmly believes he was abducted by aliens. Yes, you read that right. This story first came out during an interview on the Eddie Trunk radio show about five years ago, where a clearly drunk Frehley related a tale of strange lights in his backyard to a bewildered and increasingly uncomfortable Trunk. Amazingly, he does not back down from the story (or even consider the possibility that it may have been a tequila-induced hallucination. What this does to the credibility of the rest of the narrative is a matter of individual judgment.

On the whole, No Regrets is a much more satisfying account of the story of KISS than the highly airbrushed "official" accounts currently on offer. In addition, the reader gains an insight into the mind of one of the true legends of rock guitar. Highly recommended.

Four bottles of Cold Gin out of Five.

Reformed Romantics: Marriage and OT Covenant Progression

If we are correct in our observation that the place and function of marriage and sexuality is related directly to God's character and rule, then we would expect to find that the coming of the Abrahamic covenant would impact on a theological view of human relationships. This is exactly what we find.

Genesis 4-11 continues in establishing the theological worldview of the first Jew, Abraham. These chapters are better read through Theological rather than Historical glasses (though I believe historical facts are contained there). A reader cannot help being struck by the rapid progress of humanity within God's creation, which is attested to in the genealogical lists. Far from being "space fillers", these lists show that the marriage and sexuality functioned exactly according to God's purpose even while the relationship between Human and Divine was ruptured. Humanity was fruitful and multiplied. However, this fruitfulness was about to be given a special dignity in a particular instance.

To a childless man of pensionable age in southern Iraq, God made promises of Land, Descendants, Nationhood, and Blessing. Of all the families in the world (who had no trouble in reproducing) God selected the most unlikely candidate for fathering a dynasty. It was done in order to show God's power and grace to the whole world and to repair the damage done by the first man in Eden. For Abraham and Sarah, marriage and children were no longer merely part of a creation mandate, but they were now to be the method of transmitting God's grace not only to their descendants but to the whole world. The sign of circumcision was not a random choice, but a deliberate red flag that Fertility was the hope for the future. Moreover, it symbolised the spiritual marriage between God and Israel, an image prominent in the Old Testament.

As the story of Genesis progresses the reader is made aware that not all activity within covenant-oriented marriages seems to advance God's cause. In fact, the actions presented are a mixture of Covenant Progressive and Covenant Subversive. Sarah bears Abraham a son (Progressive) but also directs her husband to adultery and allows herself to be a sexual plaything for foreign rulers (Subversive). Rebbecca bears two sons to Isaac (Progressive) but dishonours her husband by supporting the younger son to deceitfully gain the covenant blessing (Subversive). This will be a pattern repeated though the Old Testament, indicating that while marriage and childbearing will be the means of covenant progression it was never a perfect means. The system prospered only because God's faithfulness was stronger than the faithless families to whom he swore his covenant.

Rockin' Christmas Books 1: "Iron Man" by Tony Iommi

The approaching festive season for me (and many others) usually means Books. Books as presents, books for presents, books to divert the kids, books to prop open doors/windows, etc. Many of my clerical colleagues no doubt use the slower pace of the post-Christmas period to read some of the serious theological works published in the previous 12 months that have joined the rapidly growing Must Read List. I hope to do a bit of that as well. But I also like to relax a bit and so I require books that Rock! Or rather, I love books about People Who Rock.

One of my more popular posts was this from last year, which described the various types of musical biography out there (along with some of my favourites). Well, now that I've cleared the path for you, I thought I'd devote a few posts over the next week or so to some of the latest offerings in the Rock Biography genre which you may be tempted for that Special Headbanging Someone this Christmas.

First up: Iron Man by Tony Iommi.

Iommi is the guitarist in Black Sabbath, whose detuned riffing and blistering solos gave birth to the genre of Heavy Metal. He has also shared the stage with some of the most prominent, talented, and controversial figures in rock music. Tony should have a bunch of good stories up his sleeve.

I'll get my biggest gripe out of the way first - the graphic design of this book is TERRIBLE! Front cover is a close up of Tony's face with unimaginative block lettering down the bottom. For some reason the "M" in "Man" is written in Iron Maiden script. Huh??? Given that Sabbath weren't short of good fonts on their album covers surely it couldn't have been too hard to use something that even vaguely embodied the band the author actually played in. Seriously, they either gave this cover to the Work Experience Kid or (more likely) the publisher had to put out something in a hurry to meet a deadline. Given that Sabbath announced their comeback album and tour a couple of weeks ago I get the impression that time wasn't a luxury.

Of course, we can't judge a book by the cover, and surely once we get inside Tony will keep us enthralled with tales of Excess On The Road...

Well, yes and no. Tony gives us his perspective on Sabbath's long and controversial career, and that alone makes the book important. He has chosen to construct his memoir as a chronological series of anecdotes. Each chapter runs about 3-5 pages and is presented in a conversational style, which is helpful for those (like Ozzy) with ADHD, but more than a little frustrating for anyone who graduated primary school. At best, it feels like you are sharing a pint or 60 down the pub with Tony while he shares his Best Recollections. Actually, if the publisher had framed the book in that way it would have been a much more enjoyable read. Tony has been presented by bandmates past and present as being little more than a Control Freak, and he takes the opportunity here to answer his critics and provide his side of the story. He even comes off as moderately likeable and I even found myself thinking, "I reckon I could have been in a band with this guy. He's just misunderstood." Nevertheless, Iron Man lacks two things that could have turned it from Decent Read to Quality Memoir.

Lack #1 - Effort. This book feels like someone pressed the Record button, transcribed the results, and stuck a cheap-ass cover on it. Not everyone is going to go to the level of Nikki Sixx, whose Heroin Diaries were a work of art as well as being hilarious and revolting. But even those who have followed a more traditional format (Steve Tyler, David Lee Roth, Tommy Lee, Anthony Kiedis, etc) have made sure that the reader walks away with more than a collection of short stories. Again, perhaps time pressures were an issue and Tony didn't get to realise his vision. That said, Tony has held the status of Rock Legend for several decades now - this book was going to come out sooner or later and Tony had plenty of time (in the last decade in particular) to have cobbled together something a little better than this.

Lack #2 - Juiciness. You know those cakes you sometimes get at the houses of Old People, that dry sponge with no icing that you need two pots of tea to wash down? Imagine that in book form. Black Sabbath was a band whose level of craziness on the road was at least a match for Led Zeppelin. Ozzy Osbourne has boasted that while in Sabbath he took LSD for a year just to see what would happen. You would think Tony would have some fantastic tales to tell. Well, he does, but in this instance he is keeping his mouth shut. Sure there is the occasional road story, but most are fairly tame and if you are even moderately acquainted with Ozzy and the boys you will have heard much worse elsewhere. Either Tony is so ashamed of his and others' behaviour that he has chosen to expunge it from the record (unlikely) OR the cordial (and profitable) relationship that he has re-established with the Osbourne camp (re: Sharon) and the potential for future earnings meant that he chose to keep many such stories under wraps. As such, there is no REAL insight into what it was like to be in Black Sabbath during the glory days of 1969-1983. Sure, the comings and goings of musicians and managers is documented accurately and each album is analysed for its merits (or lack thereof). The keen fan will already be aware of much of this, and will probably come away with amazement that Tony chose to keep flogging the dead horse for so long.

To be fair, maybe one of Tony's problems is that he is English, a race not known for self-examination and public confession. Even the working class of Birmingham, it seems, retain a Stiff Upper Lip at all times. In my experience, works on English musicians tend to work best when someone else is observing and interpreting the events and characters. Chris Welch's biography of Yes was a great example of a trusted insider getting notoriously reticent British musicians to say what they really thought about each other. Because Iron Man is totally Tony's story there is no-one to probe his inconsistencies and get beyond a purely subjective re-reading of events.

Fans of heavy metal and those new to the Black Sabbath story enjoy Iron Man. Despite its shortcomings it is not a bad book and gives a useful overview of the progress of such an important band from the perspective of its main creative voice. However, hardcore fans will be disappointed by its shortcomings and won't easily forgive the lack of detail regarding the band's most sordid periods.

2.5 War Pigs out of 5.