Most fans of 1980s pop and rock will have come across the name Kevin Armstrong, guitarist with Iggy Pop, Morrissey, Sinead O’Connor, John Lydon, Propaganda, Tin Machine, Prefab Sprout, Thomas Dolby and Paul McCartney, and famously part of David Bowie’s band at Live Aid.
His enjoyable new memoir ‘Absolute Beginner’ is that rare thing – a book by a British session player who has borne witness to massive egos, occasional artistic triumphs and typical music biz disappointments, all the while trying to get a reasonable guitar sound.
But the book is anything but a polite/completist career overview – Armstrong knows where the bodies are buried and doesn’t hold back on salacious details. He’s also blatantly honest about his own perceived musical shortcomings and mental health issues.
Finally the book comes over as something like a cross between Giles Smith’s ‘Lost In Music’ and Guy Pratt’s ‘My Bass And Other Animals’, with just as many laughs as both.
We learn about his misspent youth in the relatively salubrious environs of Orpington, Kent, nurturing his increasing interest in the guitar and music of David Bowie, Yes, Zappa and Roxy Music (and ponders whether Eno’s squealing synths caused him some hearing loss issues when watching Roxy supporting Alice Cooper). There are superb passages about the power of listening to a great album while studying the sleeve and indulging in ‘mild hallucinogens’.
The punk era sees Armstrong squatting in Brixton, hanging out with The Slits and recording with Local Heroes (on Charlie Gillett’s record label) and The Passions. There’s a whole chapter on collaborating with Thomas Dolby, lots on laying down Steve McQueen with Prefab (fronted by the ‘emotionally fragile’ and ‘shy’ Paddy McAloon) and some hilarious stories about playing in Jonathan Ross’s house band for ‘The Last Resort’.
But the real meat and drink of the book is the fabulous section on Live Aid, particularly illuminating the strange realities of the music industry when he returns alone to his tiny West London flat soon after performing for two billion people. There are also fascinating, funny stories about recording ‘Absolute Beginners’ and ‘Dancing In The Street’.
His dealings with Bowie during the Tin Machine era are also as intriguing as you might expect (as is his story about being ‘let go’ before the release of that band’s debut album, also nixing the rumour that Bowie gave up booze a long time before 1989…), as are those with the mercurial McCartney, the superstitious, over-sensitive Morrissey and bizarre O’Connor.
There are many revelations too around touring with Iggy Pop, as well as some refreshingly honest opinions on some of his bandmates (especially – and surprisingly – drummer Gavin Harrison…) and a fascinating detour into joining a choir led by Eno.
But Armstrong saves most of his bile for his late entrée into the world of TV advertising: ‘Blind optimism and over-confidence drew me inexorably into the seedy and frightening world of production music…a world so steeped in bullshit and doublethink that it beggars belief’!
‘Absolute Beginner’ is one of the most enjoyable music memoirs movingtheriver has read over the last few years. Just when you think you know where it’s going, it delivers yet another zinger. It’s an absolute must for any fans of Bowie, Iggy, Dolby or Prefab, while offering the casual 1980s and 1990s music fan loads of tasty morsels.
Managers, eh? In 1997, David Bowie said, ‘They’re a species I really have nothing to do with’, an unsurprising position considering his disastrous earlier experiences.
movingtheriver.com 