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Black Postcards: A Rock & Roll Romance

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Andy Warhol said that in the future everyone will be famous for 15 minutes. If one is lucky enough to land a recording contract with a name record company, write brilliantly crafted rock songs, and tour endlessly, then one might get to be 'almost famous' for 15 years. Such is the story that Dean Wareham, who was the lead singer songwriter of the alternative/indie rock bands Galaxie 500 and Luna, tells in his hilariously satirical, meticulously detailed and occasionally disturbing semi-autobiographical tome, "Black Postcards: A Rock Roll Romance" (The Penguin Press, New York, 2008). This is an essential read for anyone who loves rock music, as it is one of the most well written and insightful accounts from the trenches of the often seamy and occasionally glorious scene that was the alternative rock music business.

Drawing his reminiscences from a diary that his father, a successful management consultant suggested he keep, Wareham chronicles his middle class childhood in New Zealand and later in New York City. It was in New York where Dean came of age in the late 1970's during the halcyon days of punk and new wave. Like a sponge, Wareham absorbed the music, the style and the ethos of punk and new wave rock. Ever opinionated, Wareham quickly draws sharp lines of demarcation between "good" and "bad" music. The Clash, Joy Division, Talking Heads, and The Feelies fell into Dean's category of "good" music. U2, Metallica, The Cure and other big name bands who received extensive radio airplay, were not especially 'cool'. That the dizzying list of bands Wareham cites as influences, recorded abrasively uncommercial rock music and achieved only cult status is exactly the point, as it was that do it yourself for the sake of the music ethos that shaped Wareham's later choices of the people he befriended, the guitars he played, the bands he formed and the music that he created. Galaxie 500 and Luna were "not the Beatles" nor Nirvana as Dean wryly observes, but Wareham and band mates achieved the more modest aim of making rock music that was quieter than grunge but which was every bit as gripping. Wareham and Galaxie 500 members Damon Krukowski and Naomi Yang distilled the urban folk-rock of The Velvet Underground as well as 60's garage rock to create jangly and trace-like guitar based rock. After Galaxie 500's demise Wareham, along with Luna band mates, Justin Harwood, Stanley Demeski, and Sean Eden (and later Britta Phillips) developed a more rhythmic and angular sounding rock described as "dream pop". When each band was at the top of their game, several critically acclaimed alternative rock records emerged, namely "Today" by Galaxie 500 and "Penthouse" and "Pup Tent" by Luna.

Wareham could have subtitled his book, "a Rock & Roll Alternative", because, Wareham is forever faced with choices. The choice making process that Wareham describes, gives "Black Postcards" its' dramatic tension. Dozens of choices must be made in a rock & roll life from the mundane to the potentially life altering. Whether to continue to take college classes or to instead spend a lot of time learning how to play guitar really well; which producer to hire to mix an album; how to spend time on tour after performing at sparsely attended shows; whether to be faithful to his wife or to romance the new female band member, Britta Phillips. What is frustrating about Wareham is that he more often than not makes the wrong choices. Not one to get too glum or mope about his lapses in good judgement, Wareham keeps the tone of his story loose by injecting copious amounts of deadpan, satirical and scatological humor, thus refreshingly breaking up the tedium of the seemingly endless road tours, sleazy hotels, and internal bickering among the band members. The following passage about a night spent in Los Angeles in 1989 seeing the bands Hole and The Dwarves is priceless:

"The Dwarves took it to another level. The guitarist (who was called He Who Cannot Be Named) wore only a jockstrap and a hockey mask. The singer (Blag Dahlia) wore a pair of fishnet tights and no underwear, so his package was quite visible. After their final song, the drummer knocked over the drum kit, pulled down his pants, and mooned the audience. Then he inserted two fingers in his a**. That was a show stopper." (Black Postcards, at p.99).

Wareham does not spare himself from his critiques, as he relates how he gradually came to grips (through therapy) with the uglier aspects of his own personality and saw how his destructive behavior hurt the people closest to him. Wareham conveys real pain when he describes the scene where he looks across a street and sees the nanny wheeling Jack, his then two year old son, away from him and effectively out of his life. "This was the worst moment of my life. Of course I know that other people live through much worse. Mine were the problems of a spoiled and self-indulgent singer/songwriter. Still this was my moment and it hurt. Never mind that it was self-inflicted." (Black Postcards at p.240).

"Black Postcards" is an essential rock read, because it is a lively narrative of rock & roll from the point of view of a talented but commercially unsuccessful rocker. Some complain that Wareham should have described more of the creative process that went into making Galaxie 500's and Luna's paeans of teen angst, lust and boredom, but these details were not essential to the intensely personal saga that Wareham tells. Like all the best rock records that when finished playing leave you wanting more, both Galaxie 500 and Luna did it their way, did it well, and then they broke up...the process often being rocky but a process of evolving nonetheless. Not many rock bands can say that they achieved such creative success and hopefully now that Wareham has written about his adventures, more people will check out the stark beauty of Galaxie 500's and Luna's music. Dean Wareham is to be commended for deflating some of the pompous rock myths and for honestly describing the price one pays should one choose to live out the adolescent fantasy of being a rock star. "Black Postcards A Rock & Roll Romance" captures the edgy and thrilling danger that good rock music is.

A decent memoir by an indie rock icon. Undoubtedly it helps to be a fan of either Galaxie 500 or Luna, the cult bands Wareham fronted in the 80s and 90s. Wareham's no hack, but the book lacks narrative shape. A good writer on a small scale, the endless anecdotes flatten out as tour after tour is related in inconsequential detail. This approach does manage to convey the tedium of life on the road in an almost famous band: the crappy hotels, squalid clubs, long drives. We don't get much insight into the creative process, except the negotiations of recording an album in a democratic ensemble. Nor do we get much in the way of celebrity name dropping, though Luna opened for Lou Reed (one of the two times I saw them), who appears in a photo op and contributes a dustjacket blurb. Wareham is in fact, pretty discreet, handling the climax of the book, his infidelity and divorce from his first wife, with kid gloves. A salacious tell-all this is not.

What he does talk about is food: paella in Spain, barbecue in Texas, brisket on Houston Street. He also has the sniffy attitude of a fanboy music nerd of a particularly 80s ilk, catty about bands he doesn't like. Favorite road game: "Who wouldn't you open for?"

But Wareham's a smart guy who doesn't wear his Harvard education on his sleeve. There are a fair number of wry asides and one liners. Though some of these stories fall flat, I guess you had to be there.

There are also some genuinely poignant moments, like when he catches sight of his toddler son across the avenue the day he walked out on his first marriage.

All in all this is a respectable book for fans and those interested in the nuts and bolts of being in a minor league rock band. Still, better worth waiting for the paperback.

I was pleasantly surprised at how well-written and entertaining this book was. "Black Postcards" is a genuinely funny and touching book. Dean Wareham adroitly navigates his past, revelling the reader with nuggets from his youth ("My toes were smiling at me!") before documenting the fall of Galaxie 500 and the salad days of Luna. Throughout it all, Dean is refreshingly frank. No punches are pulled, he (rightly) takes credit for the rise of Galaxie 500 while openly admitting his own douchebaggery when necessary. Indie fans will also delight at the numerous cameos throughout the book by musicians such as Calvin Johnson, Yo La Tengo, and Stereolab.

But the humor! Goodness gracious me, it's been a long time since I've laughed so much while reading a book. Dean's accounts of life in a band are hilarious, from working in a studio ("We should have hired a cook...") to endlessly touring Europe in a van. The most amusing tales, however, are his casual dismissal of other bands. "We hated the Pixies." "I thought Eddie Vedder sang like Cher." "Metalllica are not the brightest bunch of guys you'll ever meet." "The Ramones were too punk to enjoy the beauty of the Rhine Valley." My favorite anecdote is a brief encounter with Anthony Kiedis in a hotel exercise room.

I would recommend reading this book even if you're not a fan of Galaxie 500 or Luna. Just being a music fan is reason enough to read this book because it will shed voluminous light on the day-to-day workings of being in a band.

This is a great, ripping read--even for those not familiar with the author's indie rock bands. Wareham is smart and funny. Still, he offers himself up as our most entertainingly unreliable narrator since Ishiguro's English butler in The Remains of the Day. We learn as much about his life in his well drawn scenes of band life as we do in the gaping holes in his self awareness. After 200+ pages of band infighting, small crowds, no money, crashing on floors, bad hotel rooms and self doubt, Wareham wonders why an interviewer asks him "How do you keep going?" Maybe he rails against that question because he has no ready answer, and thats the point: His beautiful music is the reason he keeps going, and the music speaks for itself. Wareham's book, too, stands on its own as a great picture of a man and his art.

...drumming out their one sided fantasy of abandonment.. As a two decade fan of Dean's music, this is everything I was hoping for. It's a wonder that he was even able to put up with those two for as long as he did. Witty and smart, Dean pulls no punches, not even on himself. "Black Postcards" is filled with hilarious and sometimes heartbreaking stories of the people and situations he encountered over the last twenty years, many of which shaped his music. I loved the way he strings the narrative across the globe using the cities and backwaters he's re-visited countless times with three different bands. It's a great device for showing his personal and musical growth over time. What a real triumph for him! I can't wait twenty more years for the sequel.

Dean Wareham details his life in the elastic time of late 80's indie rock when opportunities to hear the music you might love came via live shows in rooms hardly anybody ever heard of or if there was enough buzz, on a CD like Today (Ryko), by the band he formed with two other Harvard grads, Galaxie 500. Always bigger in Europe, Galaxie gave Wareham a chance to visit a lot of famous cities and happily for the reader, he didn't sleep through them. After he left Galaxie 500, he formed Luna which stayed together for 12 years and never really made more than a critical splash. There is a weariness in even the wittier moments of Black Postcards, and the overwhelming sense that Wareham, who would have made a great journalist, feels that the music business is more treadmill than anything else, but music fans are a reason for living, even if they occasionally stalk him, write wacky poetry and slap him in the face.

I couldn't put this book down. Dean is a great writer, and told his story prolifically of an indie band(s) trying to make it despite difficult circumstances. The encounters with other bands and artists and Dean's snarky comments were especially enjoyable, as well as the encounters with the fans around the world. You don't need to be a fan of Luna or Galaxie 500 (I was somewhat of one but not that familiar with all of the music) to love this book. Any fan of music will appreciate the references and the well written memoir of a struggling artist who wants to make music for the sake of music, and not just to to be a rock star.

I really enjoyed this book.

I think the overarching theme is the battle of the creative soul against group think.

The record labels selling the "bruit du jour", the media selling "shock and awe", and our cultural legacies that define the proper "progression" of our lives. At times that creative soul is triumphant and you pant your flaming Seminole on the battle field of life, other times you wind up drunk and stoned, eating cheez whiz and wonder bread sandwiches at 3am, and wondering where the hell you went wrong.

I guess the key is to recognize when you reached that creative dead-end and have the courage to forge a new path. Even if that feels like backtracking. Even you feel the sting of loss.

The Book leads you candidly through his journey to (and out of) several of these dead-end. He does this in literary tones that oscillate from reverence for the creative work that might have been, to playful banter on the absurdities of business, love and the creative process.

Aspiring musicians will benefit from the catalog of pitfalls and "early warnings" he documents. Music fans who grew up in the alternative rock scene of the 90's will especially love the behind the scenes view of a music industry under siege financially by Napster, and artistically by "grunge".

All-in-all a great read you don't have to be a Galaxie 500, Luna, or Dean & Britta fan to enjoy.
Hope this review helps :-)

In his beautifully written, yet understated book, Dean Wareham shares with us his disdain for being asked, "Why aren't you more famous?". It's a fair inquiry and probably for most questioners even meant as a compliment. It is one I've have admittedly wondered myself and I think Dean has provided a compelling background to the vagaries and fickleness of the music industry that relegates a man with indisputable talent to relative obscurity. However this is what gives his memoir its distinction over other sex, drugs, and rock & roll tomes. Dean and his band mates suffer through the indignities of touring, recording, and internal discord without the trappings and success of the "typical" rock lifestyle. This is eminently more interesting than anything you might read about the latest celebrity imploding from their excesses.

Dean has steadfastly held to his indie cred and while his lifestyle may have suffered for it, his art certainly hasn't. Thank you for Black Postcards - both of them.

Let me state upfront that I knew a little of Luna (but not a whole lot) before reading this book. I looked at the inner-flap of the book, and knew right away this would make for a great read.

In "Black Postcards: A Rock and Roll Romance" (324 pages), Luna frontman Dean Wareham brings his memoirs of what is was like being in an indie-rock band, first with Galaxy 500, then with Luna for over 12 years. This is a very dry, unsentimental yet funny look at how things are when success is measured in small amounts. Wareham's obervations on the music industry are revealing. "Didn't it all get better when Nirvana came along? Weren't the airwaves filled with great alternative rock? No, it got worse--because alternative and modern-rock radio became a much bigger business. You could make a case that Nirvana ruined everything." On not getting radio airply: "We have all heard stories of a DJ in Cincinnati liking a song, putting it into heavy rotation, and then the rest of the country follows suit and you have a hit on your hands--all because one DJ took a chance. It doesn't work that way anymore." For whatever reason, Wareham has a number of wry accounts on passing through Cincinnati on their various tours, such as this beauty: "Sudy Malone's was a bar, a rock club and a laundry. We were able to wash our clothes, and the club was packed. But it was a bit depressing to play at a laundry, no matter how punk rock it was. You could smell the fabric softener from the stage and it didn't smell rock and roll." Haha! (The legendary Sudsy's has since closed, by the way.)

On the importance of the Strokes: "I loved that first record by the Strokes. But rock and roll is always being saved. Two years earlier it was all Backstreet Boys and 'N Sync and Britney and Eminem, and rock was dead. Never mind that people have been making garage rock in cities all over the world since about 1966--now the kids think it was invented by the White Stripes and the Hives." In the end, this book is a delight from start to finish, and a 'must-read' for any indie-rock fan.