Thursday, July 25, 2013

No Regrets - Ace Frehley with John Layden


I am irresistibly drawn to rockstar memoirs, although they are of a homogeneous breed.
Just as their autobiographies tend to parallel each other, many bands appear to mirror each other's dynamics, the diverse musicians often assuming congruent roles in the group. Almost always, you will find one musical architect, one marketing expert, one creative genius - often left behind early on - and one Frehley-type; the one in the background, increasingly bitter toward the band leaders.

Frehley was smart enough to go solo before turning into Bill Wyman, sourest of all the sour, but not before developing a powerful and possibly legitimate animosity toward Gene Simmons (the marketing expert).

But I'm digressing! Rockstar autobiographies are homogeneous. I know this, but still can't seem to stay away. Frehley makes no exception to the rule. It sets out entertaining enough, but within 150 pages I'm revolted by this uneducated, self-centered, whiny guy, going on and on about sex and drugs and rock'n'roll.

The inside information to be had in this book is very limited, most likely because Frehley himself remembers precious little, caught as he was in a perpetual drug-induced haze.
Irritatingly boring.



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