I'm in love... (book review ed.)

Not with Jacob Slichter (although he is certainly appealing) but with his book, So You Wanna Be a Rock & Roll Star: How I Machine-Gunned a Roomful of Record Executives and Other True Tales from a Drummer's Life. This is the best modern memoir I've read, and one of the best books I've seen in a very long time. 

Slichter is the drummer from the band Semisonic, formed in the home state in the early 1990s. If you know me at all, you know that my home state-ness is a major factor of the way that I conceive of myself. That similarity probably gave Semisonic a boost in my estimation, and also encouraged me to pick this book out of the dozens that appeal to me at any one time. I've also, as some may know, always had a soft spot for drummers. My history with the opposite sex is a jumble of disastrous encounters: J.A., Eric, Jim (those jeans!), Adam, Steve.... Most of them were, alas, unrequited (although someday I may tell the whole J.A. story--suffice it to say, I was vindicated), but my love for the art of drumming lived on. 

Slichter is not the stereotypical drummer, at least not by the experiences I've had with that type. He's introspective, thoughtful, overwhelmingly intelligent, riddled with doubt, responsible, and financially tortured. At the same time, though, he's cocky, brilliantly funny, impatient, unconsciously sexy, impulsive, obsessed with appearance, and seemingly uncomfortable with the role that requires him to be behind the "important" action--just like every other drummer I've known. The combination makes his memoir fascinating and the personal life that he reveals simultaneously appealing and painful. This is a guy you'd like to have come over to your house so you could feed him and make sure he's got a warm-enough sweater. There are several things from the book that I'd like to quote here so that you can see exactly why I liked this so much. I'll try to leave some of it to your imagination, but here are some of my favorites.

The idea of playing an acoustic guitar, a bass with a tiny amplifier, and a pair of bongos for a bunch of suits seated around a table sounded vaguely like having sex in front of one's parents. (p. 60)

How to dress myself continued to be a vexing issue. I remained wary of following [Semisonic bandmates'] Dan and John's forays into flamboyance but knew that my clothes should say, 'rock star.' If only they could say, 'Thoughtful rock star, skeptical of stardom and fashion, who nevertheless manages to dress with an unassuming panache.' (p. 156)

Over the course of the set, I build the groove into a wave where I can surf. I like to lie back where the top of the wave curls over me--the pocket. On my best nights, I am lord of the pocket, the wave, and the ocean. With a large spacious fill, the wave becomes fifty feet high, and I glide along the top, enjoying the ride as I send it crashing down, a rush for the audience. At other moments, I still the water and skim over its glassy smoothness. Drumming is a game: Make the audience shimmy and shake, then knock them over. Give Dan and John a surprise kick in the ass. They love it. The ten-year-old boy and his father [in the audience] love it, too. (p. 197)

The most intense questions...came from the German interviewers. "'Can hope overcome despair in the real world, as it does on your records?' "'In what ways can music change the world?' "'Why are you so afraid to write a political song?'" ...A few of the European journalists spoke flawless English. Others spoke no English, requiring our label hosts to function as interpreters. The majority spoke functional English—one or two verb tenses and confused syntax. 'But I think you are writing some pop songs always. But for your next album, too?' "We answered, 'But this is exactly what is not on our minds. We are not thinking to make our next record yet.' Immersion is a powerful teacher. (p. 231)

"During our fourth song, a softer mid-tempo number titled 'DND' (for 'Do Not Disturb'), hundreds of people hauled out lighters and flicked them on and off with the backbeats, as if my left drumstick were literally lighting up the room with each smack of the snare drum. I laughed in amazement, nearly falling off the drum throne." (pp. 240-1)

[at a banquet] "I...felt my stock bottom out when R.E.M. singer Michael Stipe breezed through the affair briefly to confer with the two Radiohead lads, perhaps arranging a later rendezvous far removed from the schmoozeoisie." (pp. 263-4)

Slichter writes with a real person's voice about something no regular "real person" has experienced. His story is wistful and sometimes bitter, but also funny and pure--a 10. I loved it.