Summer Reading: Rip It Up and Start Again: Post-Punk 1978-1984

After reading the introduction to Simon Reynolds' Rip it Up and Start Again, I was struck by how lucky I am to live in the internet age. If I want to learn more about a genre of music, I can just do a search on Wikipedia to get some basic information, stream song clips on a site like YouTube, and determine within a short period of time whether I like an artist, for absolutely no money whatsoever.

Reading the book, you get a real sense that the technological limitations of the late '70s and early '80s made sure that only devoted fans knew about the thriving post-punk scene. Reynolds' description of the problems British independent record labels had with distributing their bands' albums, as well as the common theme of bands never really reaching a huge mainstream following, gives the impression that, in order to become an expert on the music, one had to put in a huge amount of time, money and energy into it.

You can tell from his vast knowledge on the topic, though, that this presumed difficulty never stopped Reynolds from passionately diving head-first into the scene. The music journalist, who, according to his author bio in the book, was a senior editor at Spin, and worked for The New York Times and The Village Voice, encapsulates his excitement in the introduction, writing, "I never bought old records during that period. Why would I have? There were so many new records to buy that there was simply no earthly reason to investigate the past."

It's Reynolds' combination of a fan's enthusiasm and a historian's research skills that makes Rip It Up such a success. He takes the reader through post-punk's rise and fall chronologically, touring notable scenes such as those in Leeds, Manchester, New York, and more, as well as giving concise but excellent summaries of the outputs of major players (Joy Division, Devo, Talking Heads) and lesser-known musicians (Durutti Column, early Throbbing Gristle, the Pop Group) alike.







Some of the most fascinating parts of the book have less to do with the music and more to do with the business and philosophical sides of the genre. As mentioned before, Reynolds gets into extensive detail about how British independent labels such as Rough Trade, Mute, and Factory operated under creative, co-operative business models that allowed them moderate success for a limited period of time. He also examines the genre's interest in philosophy and literature (Dadaism, the Situationist movement, the works of figures like Bertolt Brecht, Phillip K. Dick and J.G. Ballard) and how then-current social and economic changes influenced bands. One notable example of this was how the perceived cultural and very real economic declines in late-'70s Manchester shaped its music, from the gloomy dirges of bands like Joy Division, to the rough, cutting sound of The Fall.







The second half of the book tackles post-punk's influence in the 1980s, as the genre began to wane both critically and commercially. Trademarks of the genre, including melodic basslines influenced by genres like funk, dub and reggae, angular guitars and driving beats, were expanded upon by ska-influenced bands like the Specials and Madness, indie-pop groups like Orange Juice and Josef K (both from Scotland), and synthpop groups like the Human League. Readers drawn to the book to learn about topics such as No-Wave, Gang of Four or the Mekons may be disappointed with the second half, but it's definitely interesting to see how bands tried to conform to or flee from the ideas of their post-punk forebearers.







What people get out of their book depends a lot on their taste. I know I was left asking why there was more coverage on a band like Frankie Goes to Hollywood than on the Birthday Party, Siouxsie and the Banshees or New Order, but the idea of the book isn't so much to catalogue every important artist as to get a feel for the time and understand how something as uncommercial and sparse as post-punk could evolve and influence highly produced music like New Pop and Rock. The book also shows how important the genre was in advancing music as a whole; as Reynolds notes, Gang of Four was a huge influence on the Red Hot Chili Peppers, and U2 was tremendously inspired by Joy Division. Overall, Rip It Up... reads like the definitive roadmap to a genre and time that was never documented as widely as it should have been, and Reynolds covers every twist and turn concisely yet substantially. Definitely a must-read for anyone looking to get into the genre.







(Cover design by Jesse Marinoff Reyes; Cover photographs by The Glenn A. Baker Archives).

For more information about the book, the author and the genre, visit http://www.simonreynolds.net/

Summer Reading: Please: Fiction Inspired by The Smiths

A friend of mine recently started doing a summer reading series (you can find that here, by the way) where she recommends books that she's enjoyed in the past, many of them dealing with Canadian politics. I liked the idea, so I figured I'd poach it and use it here. I'm going to try to write about each book I read until the beginning of September, regardless of whether I like it or not.

In the past few weeks, I've been tackling three books: Rip It Up and Start Again: Post-Punk 1978-1984 by Simon Reynolds, The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner by Alan Sillitoe, and the one I'm writing about now, Please: Short Fiction Inspired By the Smiths. Two of these three are about music, but rest assured that I intend to tackle fiction, biographies and other reading material that doesn't have to do with bands or songs. Without further adieu, though, here are my thoughts on Please.

Why I chose to read the book:
I chose this one on an impulse. I'd been bored one evening, and so I drove to the local bookstore to browse titles. I'd already been reading two other books at the time, but when I saw this book, it looked obscure enough that if I were to leave it, I'd probably never find it again. It was only $15, so that was also an incentive.

My reasoning was also that the book would be fun regardless of its quality. Any Smiths fan will tell you that the band's music is great, but it's also very melodramatic. I thought that the authors writing these stories would either take the band's touching, witty and relatable lyrics and turn them into memorable stories, or else write fan-fiction so overwrought and strained that it would be a fun read on a cheesy level.

Who is important in these stories:
The book was edited by Peter Wild, and there are many authors featured, including Alison MacLeod, Willy Vlautin and David Gaffney, just to name a few. It's also important to know about the band that inspired the stories, too. Wikipedia can explain the subject much better than I can, and there are songs by the band embedded below for anyone who might want to hear them. For another factual biography, check out Alan Cross's audiobook The Alan Cross Guide to Alternative Rock Vol. 2, which is so good, I'll probably plug it again very soon.

What I liked about the book:
Despite my initial expectations, there was nothing in Please that veered into campy, overwrought drivel. This being fiction based on The Smiths, your opinion on whether the stories are too melodramatic will vary based on how much you like the band, but at the very least, the book never gets close to being as bad as it could be.

The best stories are the ones that take on their own unique narrative voices. Back to the Old House (by Graham Rae) is written A Clockwork Orange-style, with the narrator speaking in a thick Scottish (I think) accent spelled out phonetically on the page, making it pretty difficult to decipher. The story succeeds despite this and its familiar plot, largely because of the casual, reminiscent feel of it, like a guy retelling an anecdote in a bar.



Similarly, A Rush and a Push and the Land is Ours (Peter Wild) has an ending that could be considered audacious, overblown, and even offensive to anyone who’s voted Tory in the last little while, but the fact that it’s told by a sycophantic, scheming campaign worker makes it too cartoonish and satirical to take seriously.



Oscillate Wildly (Alison MacLeod), meanwhile, reflects on the life of a man dying of cancer, surrounded by his family. I’m a sucker for these kinds of stories, so it may just be that the author perfectly pandered to people like me, but I found it to be pretty heart-warming.



I mentioned earlier that I’d been reading Sillitoe’s The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner, and the plot of Sweet and Tender Hooligan (Charlie Williams) reminded me of it, if only because both involve working-class youths breaking into houses and having something crappy happen to them as a result. Hooligan works because it effectively conveys each of the emotions that its adolescent hero Bean experiences; the sickening regret of the misdeed he’s committed, his confusion in dealing with the world and with girls, and his need to fit in with the robbery’s mastermind, Joe.



There is a Light That Never Goes Out (Helen Walsh) ramps up the adult subject matter (stop reading this paragraph if you’re sensitive to this kind of thing; seriously, you’ve been warned). It reads like Boys Don’t Cry set in a gay brothel. Again, the narrator’s personality really improves the story, making it feel like a guided tour through the seedy underbelly of the sex-trade. It’s definitely one of the harder stories to read just for its subject matter alone (although parts of Some Girls are Bigger Than Others, by Jenn Ashworth, come pretty close), but it is one of the better stories in the collection.



Finally, there’s I Want the One I Can’t Have (Matt Beaumont), which pokes fun at the very idea of writing fiction based around the songs of a beloved band. The story never takes itself very seriously, so it contrasts well with other stories that feel like they’re trying too hard to be meaningful or profound.



What I didn't like:
Again, contrary to my predictions, there weren’t a lot of stories that were so bad and cheesy that they became fun to read because of their awfulness. If stories fell flat, it was either because they slogged on or were too boring or serious. As well, since a lot of this fiction was written out of the authors’ unique interpretations of the song, sometimes I found myself wondering what the stories had to do with the songs they were inspired by (the first story in the collection, Ask (Gina Ochsner), falls into this category, even though it’s a pretty good read). I'm not going to name names or get into individual stories I didn't like, but thankfully, nothing was bad enough to sink the collection or make me want to put the book down.



Who should read it:
Most of the stories themselves were pretty good overall, and anyone could get into them regardless of whether they like The Smiths. I think this kind of book works on two levels, where everyone can get something out of it, but some authors add in little Easter eggs that will definitely appeal to the band’s fans. I don’t know if I’d buy something like it again, but if you can find it at a local library (you can’t in Ottawa), it’s definitely something I’d recommend as light reading.

To conclude, here's "Some Girls are Bigger Than Others", by The Smiths.



(Photo Credits:
Cover design by Milan Bozic; Cover Photograph (C) Stephen Wright/Getty Images).