There Goes Gravity: A
Life in Rock and Roll by Lisa Robinson
A book Review by: Kurt von Behrmann
Access
is crucial to any journalist. However, acquiring it in the rarefied realm of
contemporary music presents special challenges. The biggest obstacle is gaining
the trust of musicians, particular those who have achieved stratospheric
success. Lisa Robinson had entrée into
that world, and all that comes with it, the good, the bad, the ugly and even
the boring.
“There Goes Gravity: A Life in Rock and Roll”
chronicles Robinson’s encounters with acts that achieved iconic status and
those that were seminal in the underground music scene of 70’s in New
York. The thrust of the book focuses on
her stint as a traveling journalist with the Rolling Stones and Led
Zepplin. Both from the U.K., wildly
successful and huge fans of African-American music, their respective tours
included the obligatory chartered jets, stretch limos and the inevitable
conflicts that place egos and artistic integrity into battles of the wills.
Robinson
correctly notes that unless you are part of the self-indulgence that comes with
the rock and roll highlife – quick sex, long drinking bouts, endless supplies
of drugs and the usual mayhem that accompanies creative people on the road, you
are on one tour and they are on another.
Robinson was not a part of the party.
It is obvious from her observations she was aloof from the debauchery.
Even if
you were not a participant in the shenanigans, it seems a little odd that a
reporter would not want to be front and center to the action, if there was any. Clearly things were happening on tour, but
Robinson has either turned a blind eye to the excesses or had no real knowledge
of them. What emerges rather quickly is
that Robinson is both fond of her subjects and a little protective of them. This certainly fosters great friendships, but
it hardly makes for exciting reading.
If you
are expecting an expose of the behind the scenes workings of pop music in high
gear, you will be disappointed. A Wendy
Williams type of insider providing the “hot topics” is not here. There are no truly sordid stories here that
one may not have read about elsewhere.
But,
that doesn’t meant that Robinson has nothing of importance to say. What she does communicate well is the
excitement of being on tour and the attendant luxury that comes with huge
global success. She does convey some of
the wonder and thrill of perpetual jet travel, meeting the famous and staying
in high end hotels in exciting cities. There
is plenty of that here.
But there
is also a down side. There is the
unexpected consequence of having some so much so soon and so often that it can
lead to a type ennui. After a while the
travel becomes tedious and one hotel starts to look very much like the
other. When your world becomes work,
travel and work, even with the trappings of success, it can lead to a blur.
Even the performances themselves suffer from the unrelenting pressure to
maintain stardom. It is hard getting to
the top, and just as hard staying there.
The fear of slipping into irrelevance is omnipresent when you are a proven
winner.
Robinson
captures those feelings, but she seems to be unable to draw any conclusions
from what she sees. She makes note of
the chemical dependencies and one night stands with groupies, but she never
looks deeper to ask the penetrating question, why?
Robinson
seems content to list her encounters with high powered Rock and Roll acts, but seldom
offers up any type of conclusions or assessments of what she has
discovered. There are comments here and
there, but nothing that really sums up what all of the travel, music and mayhem
was really all about. There is clearly
meaning here, but it feels decidedly ambiguous. While ambiguity can be a useful tool for an
artist, it can ruin a reporter.
Short
of funny anecdotes, or stinging gossip, Robinson does manage to get a few digs
in from time to time. For the most part,
she genuinely likes her subject and makes no bones about that. But, if a celebrity doesn’t connect with her,
the dislike is openly expressed.
One can
argue about the talents of Madonna, but one cannot deny that she was a game
changer. Utilizing the emerging world of
music videos, hers were about image and sexuality married to dance music. Like her or not, she created the template for
solo female acts that is still in use today.
Robinson
did not feel the need to accord her a place in the pantheon of game changers in
contemporary music, which is her choice.
But she had no problem finding her distant and self-absorbed. Robinson was looking for something more from
Madonna. Whatever that something was, it
left a substantially negative bad taste in the author’s mouth.
Allegedly,
according to Robinson, Sir Elton John didn’t have a particularly high opinion
of the material girl either. “The only
thing she has done for the gay community is take their money,” supposedly said Sir
John.
Another
musician that “irked” Robinson was Yoko Ono.
For a period of time, John Lennon and Robinson enjoyed some rather
detailed exchanges. Ono was also
included on some of these conversations. The relationship was cordial. In one of the books better crafted moments,
Robinson makes a surprising revelation about Ono. It doesn’t speak well of her.
It also provides a dramatic moment that is much needed in a narrative that at
times seems to be monotone at moments.
A
thread that comes up periodically are the conflicts of fame and
creativity. Robinson outlines the phases
of a band from garage to recording studios and the price paid for success. It is in the words of the musicians
themselves that one witnesses a self-awareness that is worldly, wise and a bit
cynical.
Common
to all of the bands are the years of struggle. The battle to make music, be
seen, be heard and obtain that most sacred of documents, “a recording contract”
are the first phase. Following the
support of a record company, sales start, recognition and fame follow, if lucky. With the fame comes the money, the acclaim, the
awards, the adulation and sometimes the hangers on.
In the
world of popular music, it is an unstated rule that you can’t appear too
ambitious. The image of a musician is
someone who loves what he or she does and the other aspects of success are
incidental. The truth of the matter is
that all successful musical acts are wildly ambitious. They simply do not put it in print.
Madonna, early one, happened to be
very open about her ambitions. For acts based
on usurping authority and traditional values, ambition and success can be the
death of a muse and the annihilation of artistic integrity.
Robinson
does successfully touch upon this point at several times. It is worth noting. The biggest problem for an act is both
success and obscurity. If you are a maverick
and a rebel, a certain kind anyway, you need the edge that comes with the
struggle. If you hang onto your
principles and play long and hard, you win an audience and have a muse. But, if you fail to reach an audience, you
are forever stuck in a bohemia where you have limits and restrictions on what
you can do. Certainly, you can inspire
and brave new ground, but without some support of some kind, your art dries up
and evaporates. One cannot stay in the underground
for too long. If you do, you risk sliding into obscurity.
Should
success hit, you have support, an audience and fame. Now your work hits worldwide and everyone knows
you. First comes acclaim and then the monetary
rewards. Now come expectations. Then come the compromises that arrive with
fame. Without notice, you are living the
type of life your musical was critical of, and now you may well risk losing the
muse that inspired you to create music in the first place.
Sure,
these are simple scenarios, but they do reflect the winning and losing side of
fame and the downside of remaining a cult act.
Robinson does bring light to the conflict and a few other realizations
that add up to the fact that life on the road is never easy, and trust is a
dicey concept when you are successful and everyone wants a piece of you.
Conclusion
Lisa
Robinson’s tour through rock and roll from underground bars in New York to
world tours, makes for fascinating reading if for no other reason that peering
into the inner lives of successful musicians is always intriguing. There Goes Gravity depends on the reader having
that interest. Flowing in and out of
time, sometimes it becomes awkward going from one tour to the next awkwardly going
in and out of sequence. The repetition of
some statements doesn’t help. Also
annoying are some rather clichéd lines that crop up from time to time.
This is
not a particularly poorly written book, but neither is it a particularly
exciting one. What should have been a
world of wonder and ideas starts to seem rather pedestrian. The biggest failing of the book is the failure
to capture the personality of the musician in question. Too quickly the book
feels like a fleeting note pad of meetings, conversations and events that don’t
add up to much more than descriptions.
Minus any analysis, all that is left are descriptions. The occasional biting comments help. The provide
some change in rhythm. A few stories of
seedy activity or self-importance ruining an image supply some spark, but they
cannot become a substitute for real insight.
This is
not a bad diversion. It does open a door
into a world few enter, and that is the main selling point of the book. For an insider view, it should have been
significantly more insightful and definitely more fascinating.
