Customer Reviews

Babylon's Burning: From Punk to Grunge

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I'd read other books by the same author and was ready for a well-researched, eloquently-penned work on a par with From The Velvets To The Voidoids. This was a huge disappointment. I can't even recommend this book for those who know next to nothing about punk rock. If this weren't such a boring read, it might be useful as a reference for those who think punk rock began and ended with the Sex Pistols. The major problems here aren't so much inaccuracies (which are all over the place) or the fact that many important bands are not mentioned, but the misconceptions that the writer asserts as fact. He knows next to nothing about the hardcore scene in terms of first-hand knowlege and misses entire aspects of the underground which may have helped in terms of nuance. The writer pits band against band in some sort of non-existent competition and ignores nearly all humorous elements. The odd thing is that Heylin appears to have done a lot of research and even conducted his own interviews for some sections. If one can term a book that stretches for hundreds of pagesa "rush job," surely Babylon's Burning qualifies.

Clinton Heylin extends "From the Velvets to the Voidoids" both by covering further scenes and covering more recent post-punk trends. There is only one chapter on grunge among the 625 pages of text, so the earlier scenes are far better covered. I loved reading both the breadth and depth of coverage of the early scenes. The Australian coverage was quite nice and not often enough explored or appreciated in punk rock history. I would almost drop a star from my rating as I saw at least five or six mistakes made as he hit the 1980s. But that did not detract from the history presented here. Read this along with "Please Kill Me" and "England's Dreaming" and you will get fantastic history of a great era of musical history.

This book is as unique a history book as you're likely to get; not just in the way it's written, but also in the way it seeks to present to the reader the most important aspects of Punk history. I've not read any of Heylins other books, nor have I read anything about the history of punk, but a friend of mine recommended this to me and I'm glad he did. So the book itself is aptly named "Babylon's Burning" with the subtitle "from Punk to Grunge." The main title is a song by punk band, The Ruts and of course the subtitle tells us that this book will take us on a journey through the most turbulent genre in Music.

It starts off in 1971 and the quintessential birth of Punk music and individuality in New York, right to what some would say the day the music died in the early 90s. This book settles it. The argument to end all arguments, and although many would hate to admit it, the notion of Punk started in America. Television started it all in New York City with their individuality and their outsider attitude. They didn't seek to make the type of music that surrounded the scene at that time. Television didn't want to be another Beatles and nor did they care if people rejected them for not fitting that mould. This ideology became the Punk mantra for the next 20 years and is an ideology that was already instilled in the UK's most well known Punk, John Lydon.

The out of this world "I don't give a F@#$" attitude can be widely attributed to Iggy & The Stooges, but thankfully this is all explained within the book. Heylin has a very unique way of writing which may be off putting to some, but to me it made this book more interesting to read. The book isn't really Heylins take on things as he likes to fill it with quotes from those important figures that were there as it happened. This brings you more into the atmosphere and gives you a better understanding of the motives of those involved.

I have read a bit about certain flaws in the book and because I didn't know that much about Punk to begin with and have not read any other books on it, I didn't pick up on them. Apparently there are a few spelling mistakes and is criticised for this considering that he corrects many misperceptions about certain events or important gigs. What I found dislikeable about the way it was written is that Heylin took it upon himself to make gramma[tical] corrections to the story's [told] by those who were there. Grammatically correct or not, I would have preferred the quote in its original form rather than have Heylin essentially go against everything Punk stood for and that's not caring. If you're going to use quotes in a book, then you leave them in their original form and don't insult the reader by altering them.

Towards the end, the book does take quite an obviously justified gloomy tone when talking about what many would say is the death of Punk, when Kurt took his own life. The book expresses an obvious fondness for the individual and the music created with Nirvana, while at the same time remaining objective by pointing out Kurts flaws with his contradictions. Contradiction is a theme that is apparent throughout the book. How some bands decided to end it before they became too famous so as to not backtrack on the notion of it all being about the music, while other bands contradicted certain punk ideals by seeking massive fame through signing to the big labels. These contradictions created many punk casualties, and this is spoken about sensitively whilst remaining objective.

The book certainly is enjoyable to read and Heylin has the knack for describing the atmosphere of an early Pistols gig or the early gigs of the many prominent Punk bands. It accurately presents the frustration many "real" punk bands felt towards the more popular music of the day. He also goes about trying to explain or in a sense justify the more volatile behaviour of the more vicious bands and their followers. It's a good read for those who have always been quite interested in the notion of the Punk, and the history of the genre.

Read "American Hardcore", "Our Band Could Be Your Life", "Come As You Are", "Route 666 The Road to Nirvana" or any of the countless books in print on the Clash & Sex Pistols, then "stop". This one isn't necessary or recommended... and for all it's worth those Michael Azzerad's books are WAY better reads.

This book brings little new to the table that hasn't seen print already or exists as common knowledge. With the exception of the HEAVILY accented /favored Cleveland scene, nothing will quench the appetite of a well read intelligent music fan. The writing style here is also erratic, confusing and jumpy. The transitions linking the whole mess together smoothly are non-existant.

Look carefully at that price tag on this brick and at very least wait for the paperback edition.

Subtitled "From Punk to Grunge," it does not leave the 70s until past 500 of its 640 pp. of narrative history. The "college rock" indie-label roots of what used to be called the US alternative scene and the subsequent realization at the end of the 1980s that you could admit to liking Sabbath & Zep as well as punk receive thoughtful but scant coverage compared to the immense and usually engrossing detail given the latter half of the 1970s, mostly in Britain rather than the few American centers of innovation in NYC, Ohio, and sporadically California. The emphasis on England, both London & Manchester, I found appropriate, as again and again the British combination of "the theatre of aggression" and what led quickly out of the dead end of gobbing and cartoon thuggery into post-punk and experimentation seems to have largely improved on American inspirations, whether the Stooges, Ramones, or the overlooked Pere Ubu.

The spark came from across the Atlantic, even as far as Radio Birdman and the Saints (the former group gains its own chapter early on) in Australia. Yet, it took a minority, often off major labels, to defy the conformity of the non-conformists as the punk subculture became commodified and immersed in its own contradictions of purity vs. mass exposure, anti-everything vs. a lack of progress, limited musicianship vs. a desire to complicate musical possibility. Even by early 1978, before the Sex Pistols released their LP, many on the original scene, as is the wont of such pioneers, lamented that the punk ideals had already become tarnished by the marketplace and the mall.

The quick rise and steady fall of punk's moment took, however, decades to plot accurately. Its trajectory proved exciting, as Heylin meticulously documents by his own interviews woven into a choppy but rewarding text full of quotes, press kit snippets, liner note excerpts and musings from the 1970s music weeklies. While in an aside Heylin sniffs at "purple prose" chroniclers and instigators such as Jon Savage, his authoritative "England's Dreaming" combines sociology with a fan who was there. Savage should be read first, but in the decade since, Heylin has built upon this fundamental study of the origins of British punk with a broader perspective.

I also recommend a scribe he unfairly dismisses, Simon Reynolds, in his recent "Rip It Up & Start Again: Post Punk". Heylin bridges these two solid histories, although he places much more weight on the pre-1980 side of his textual span. "Babylon's Burning" benefits from this unevenly distributed, but chronologically longer take, that begins with such groups as Suicide in the waning hippie-junkie days of the early '70s, and he excels in his careful attention to the Cleveland and NYC artsier movements that intersected with the Ramones and CBGBs' axis. As a veteran of the LA punk scene, I found his take on the violence that overwhelmed this nascent and more eclectic local movement accurate; Heylin's correct in that we had images from the weeklies of the British punk scene long before we could hear the bands, even on long delayed and rarely imported vinyl, so we formed our own mental impressions of what they sounded like from afar! Unless you have heard most (I have heard about 100) of his massive array of around 110 groups in his discography, however, this energy may seem inert on the page.

Any music historian suffers this challenge. A four-CD set dated 1973-78 on Sanctuary Records in Feb. 2007, the notes promise, "compiled and annotated by the author" with "rare and unreleased tracks" to correct some of this sonic reduction. Heylin writes with serious analyses, and has many books (a short shelf on Dylan alone) on rock including an earlier NYC 1970s-era volume. He never forgets the fun, poignancy, and contradictions of his subject matter. His prose combines witty wryness and snarky phrasing on every page. Readable, thoughtful, and dense without being dull, this I found an ideal companion despite its hefty size for many long hours that reminded me of how many of these bands and songs still resounded in my own mind as well as occupied considerable space on my shelves in vinyl or disc form.

Bands who recognized the danger of being anti-everything, and the fate of those who tried to tear down without offering any other structure with which to construct a better, more genuine, type of musical expression closer to the experience of fans who despised pomp decadence and prog excess emerge as the most prophetic. The bands who veered early from the mosh pit ahead came out better artistically if not on the charts. The front runners Pistols, Clash & Damned found themselves quickly spent, even by 1978! But, Buzzcocks, Penetration, Subway Sect, Magazine, Mekons, Throbbing Gristle, Siouxsie & the Banshees, the Fall, Pere Ubu, the Adverts, the Undertones, Stiff Little Fingers, and Joy Division all managed, if for a couple of albums at best, to capture a purer and more intelligent, less forced, British or Northern Irish maturity that accepted a wider heritage of the best of the past that music offered.

Similarly, I welcomed the attention Heylin gives-- although I wish it was not so truncated-- to such wonderful later LPs as the first full-lengths by Dream Syndicate, Gun Club, X, or the best from the Minutemen, Husker Du, Meat Puppets, or Black Flag from the American indie-label movement. A mention's better than no mention, although dozens of bands might lengthen this list that Heylin leaves out. These later chapters, alas, feel winded and weary compared with the brisker pace of the punk era. But, once again, this book is long as it is.

There remain, unfortunately, problems with such an ambitious attempt. The title may be misleading; the art director put Johnny Lydon-Rotten on the cover along with Kurt Cobain to hint to readers or buyers that this volume's not about reggae. The song that inspired the title receives little explication, a minor hit if a deserving success from The Ruts, whose Malcolm Owen gains a considerable amount of attention as a predecessor to Ian Curtis's own path to destruction. The photos, for such a cultural history, are skimpy and reveal little fresh about their posers. The discography is well-chosen, but lacks the annotation that makes Savage's hundred page appendix an invaluable reference source.

Now, the flipside. What's confusing is that Heylin brackets and adjusts by his own insertions and deletions from original sources so often-- nearly every one of hundreds of quotes gains editorial attention that alters the transcription. So, why do other errors persist? He appears to have written down by ear some of what persists here as misspellings. The whole process of using these laboriously "corrected" quotes does not make for a smooth page, and makes the product choppier when compared with his more consistent prose.

This will not be a comprehensive study. I wonder, in fact, why he did not end with the death of Ian Curtis. My hunch is that he had leftover material from the 80s he tacked on, and the book would have been tighter in execution if he had never entered the 1980s. Simon Reynolds for Britain and "Our Band Could Be Your Life," by Michael Azzerad, despite the flaws of both books (I review them on Amazon) will fill in many gaps.

Here's some corrections. LA is not a "trek" of eleven hours from SF at least by car and probably not even by bus circa 1978. The Elks Lodge in LA gets a plural totemic adjective. I doubt if the Gang of Four played what one musician is quoted as hearing as "marshall music." The Radiators from Space, in a poorly composed sentence, appear to be "Derry's leading rock band" rather than Dublin's. Roxy Music's sax player is not Andy "McKay." Neither was Salvation Army's leader Michael "Corseo." Lee Ranaldo did not go to college at SUNY "Binghampton;" nor did Black Flag or the Circle Jerks come from "Huntingdon" Beach (three times misspelled).

Still, anywhere that you can enjoy Mark E Smith's definition of a genre he soon outgrew as the "mistreating of instruments to get feelings over" (317) and where you can ponder profound epitaphs on the lifespan of punk by such as Richard Hell, Genesis P-Orridge, Howard Devoto, Pete Shelley, Brian James, Jason Ringenberg, Joe Carducci, Mark Arm, John O'Neill, Vic Goddard, Dick Witts, Una Baines, Caroline Coon, Vivienne Westwood, and Lora Logic shows the range of interviewing and citation that supports a flawed, but compulsively readable study. The first two chapters (on NYC and then Australia early 70s) I found plodding, but once Malcolm McLaren and John Lydon entered, not to mention Bernie Rhodes, the energy kicks in and, until many pages later with the demise of Ian Curtis and then the slow decay of Kurt Cobain, never lets up. So, stick with a slow start and hold on tight. It's a bumpy ride, but fans will enjoy the jolts and humps.

because i so loved "from the velvets to the voidoids," i looked forward enough to this one for this used dealer of books to have bought it new, in hardcover.

disappointment would not be the word. for if everything leveled w/in has as much to do w/ anything that actually happened or anyone who, at the time, lividly existed as does mr. heylin's peculiarly unbalanced take on darby crash, this one is pitched somewhere between the novel & the interpretive dance version, several times removed, of biography or even historiography. & instead, & w/ more precise precision, it should be pitched, & w/ godspeed, at the composting backyard heap.

because i was so disappointed in brendan mullen's biography of the abovenoted mr. crash--a book even more oddly rendered from somewhere between a baked half & a lightning bolt's worth of whole cloth, & this by someone who actually knew the subject [& who, therefore, Should Have Known Better about certain specious conclusions]--because i found that book such a, how you say, miscalculated bummer, i was looking even more forward to mr. heylin's possible redemption of a person i knew had great, sad value but who, since his death, had been at best obscurely, tho more often just poorly represented.

brendan at least tried. i cannot credit him w/ insight & i can certainly discredit him w/ hoving too close to the sick flame in fashionable semi-current events, still--he didnt try & defame the dead. he knew he wasnt dealing w/ a whiny little lightweight. he recalled enough of the depthful business of crafting anomalous heroic character to at least try for respect--if from a distance. & w/ a bad end.

here tho clinton heylin seems to have forgotten what one most needs remember to evoke the character of the period & the charcter of its characters. in his unconsidered introduction to the no longer knowable mr. crash, mr. heylin notes he has never met, or even seen, this person who he next snippily maligns. not knowing one's subject personally is, of course, not a major infraction in historical writing [if it were we'd never learn anything new about anything old]. in this case it neednt even have been noted, much less a problem, had mr. heylin engaged in better writing & better research than the abovenoted snippy malign followed by sloppy conjecture about a person he really didnt understand & really didnt want to bother to try to understand.

were i to slap my dash as untidily as did mr. heylin, i might assume the whole book is composed of equally unfired mud. but were i to pin my point where i know it belongs, i would shout how much better a book this might have been were mr. heylin still able to write, both contextually & empathetically, about his misconceived darby crash as once he wrote about peter laughner.

in his previous, wonderful book, clinton heylin saw peter laughner clearly & could make his reader see him too. he did an astonishing job of bringing back someone who would, in contemporary context, certainly be considered as simply self-indulgent as mr. heylin's chalkmark picture of mr. crash. time is so often telling. it seems that somewhere along the path between that past & this, something happened to clinton heylin. i wouldnt know what, but i do know he lost the ability to carefully consider, empathize w/ & sympathetically, or even honestly, present a suicidal subect.

tho i did not know peter laughner [i think i was twelve, & in los angeles, when he died], i knew darby crash. as i am sure mr. heylin knows, two degrees of separation are about the maximum one needs to connect anyone w/ any other one who inhabited the incestries of first gen punkrock [pop. approx 800 {worldwide, from end to end}]. &, after writing at least these two books & exploring at least the first book's context & content in depth, he must know more than that. he must know that our lives were terribly circumscribed, terribly codified.
ie:

one could type upon a single sheet of paper the names of each & every one of those approx 800 {worldwide, from end to end} first gen punk's paradigms & paladins, take a scissors, clip em out, stuff em in a single paper cup. eight hundred names on 8-1/2x11? no. theyre heady, perfect names, but soon you see a lot of repeats. roky erickson, bartok, huysmans, pasolini, burroughs, bowles & bowles, cale, cage, tzara, schoenberg, schopenhauer, lautreamont, schiele, i could keep going, all this & more, over, under, sideways, down--fabulous genius all, but those names show up in triplicate. we knew em all, our world was small.
ie redux:

maybe two hours of radio a week; nearly all music news from magazines [ditto, xerox, newsprint]; records bought for the look of their labels or the scent of their notoreity after reading about & not hearing them; no internet; no cable; no vcrs, of course it goes on. our lives were closer to those lived thirty years previous than they are to lives lived in the now of thirty years hence. "is that all there is?" mr heylin? thats all there was.

in actual lived context, how can one imagine such a breadth between the lives of peter laughner & darby crash? so why the revere, then the trash?

[i love peter laughner, btw. but it's senseless.]

i dunno. i can accordion-fold my mind [in a matter of metaphor] & thereat see darby as if i saw him two days ago. i can remember him active, if not terribly or terribly often, but i cannot remember him happy. i do not remember that as willed & acted tragedy--in fact, what i see is someone who tried to convey something like its opposite. not happiness, exactly--happiness, of course, was codified out--but in control, a darkly luminous conductor of all he conveyed. this failed. but it wasnt minor. try, if you can, to think of an inverse theatricality--someone trying to pretend to be acting, pretending in his act that he could really feel the beneficial effects of the alcohol & not really feel the sorrow.

then, i think, you have it. [&, possibly, an added insight also into peter laughner.]

it seems to me that since people have decided upon the necessity of darby's remembrance from afar, it has always been, at best, thru an odd end of some astrally foreign kaleidoscope. i will give michelle a thousand points for loyalty, & brendan five or six for trying, but the billion dollar taker of the miss grace lemon cake bonanza is the mojo-ending interview w/ pat smear, who noted, rightly:

he felt there was nothing left but to be a legend, so he took that.
[i am quoting from memory, but--that.]

one must remember the context, mr. heylin [& everyone else]. the heady world of rock & roll & dada suicides & [the vastly preferable] psychoanalysis to anti-depressants, was ours. it was noble to burn the candle at both ends & thru the middle, too.

[two stars cos his first, other book was so good & i could not read this one after a few sentences of insensible, insensitve derision directed at someone i knew much better than did the author--so perhaps i missed something better about someone else.]