Reviews since May 2025
Pop music has always been queer. If you don’t think so, you haven’t been listening. Jon Savage’s “The Secret Public: A Queer History Of Pop” (Faber & Faber, 2025) shows how LGBTQ artists and audiences reshaped music from the inside out. The book is a masterclass in writing about music, with its blend of scholarly rigour and raw enthusiasm pulling the reader into stories of queer creativity that pulse with life. Across more than 700 pages, Savage reframes pop history entirely. Spanning 1955 to 1979, the book traces the emergence of queer visibility in an era when both legal and cultural forces sought to suppress it. Savage reveals how what became mainstream pop – its sounds, styles, and even its scandals – was profoundly shaped by LGBTQ pioneers. Little Richard’s ecstatic performances, Dusty Springfield’s vocal vulnerability, Lou Reed’s cryptic storytelling, and Sylvester’s unapologetic disco mark points on a continuum of queer influence stretching from the underground to the heart of popular culture. But Savage doesn’t just present the reader with an expertly researched archive. He writes with the urgency of someone who wants us to hear the pulse of queer creativity in every riff, lyric, and gesture. He evokes the thrill of Bowie’s shapeshifting, the shockwaves of disco liberation, and the coded defiance in songs that offered lifelines to those who recognised themselves within them. Being about pop, the book inevitably brushes against our own cultural memories. In 1977, an unknown Tom Robinson used to play at the Stapleton Tavern, just down the road from our North London squat. There were maybe a dozen of us in the audience each time, and – straight or gay – we’d all sing along to Glad To Be Gay. A year later, I was with the 100,000 people singing the same song when he headlined the Anti-Nazi League Carnival at Victoria Park. As Savage shows, queerness drove not only self-expression but also cultural solidarity and social change. “The Secret Public” is both a vital contribution to music history and a celebration of pop’s power to imagine freedom, often in the face of severe adversity. As Savage concludes: “It’s an inspiring story, but a cautionary one, as these battles will have to be fought all over again.” Mike Press (Feb 2026)
Live Aid was one of those ‘you remember where you were’ moments for my generation. There have been numerous books over the decades that have documented the day in detail. However, “Live Aid: The Definitive 40-Year Story” by Paul Vallely, with a foreword by Bob Geldof (New Modern, November 2025), goes further. It brings the event back into sharp focus, not just the spectacle but the context. The book’s granular detail around the lead-up to Geldof’s idea is as remarkable as the accounts of the famine’s horrors are devastating. Vallely’s book spans the four decades since, exploring global politics, corruption, and the ongoing humanitarian work that followed. The anecdotes from the day of the concert are fascinating, but it’s the before and after, the chain of events that set everything in motion and the legacy that continues, that are compelling. He introduces both villains and heroes but one hero stands above all. Claire Bertschinger, the British nurse working for the Red Cross in Ethiopia during the famine, wasn’t a journalist or an activist; she was simply there, on the ground, doing the impossible. In a feeding camp in Korem, Claire was forced to decide which children would receive food and which would inevitably be left to die, simply because there wasn’t enough to save everyone. Making these choices day after day, alongside the horrors she witnessed, must have been unimaginable, yet her resilience and strength feel almost superhuman. Live Aid has always been a defining moment in music history and this book is a powerful reminder that it wasn’t just a moment but part of a much larger story, one that still continues. The global event on 13th July 1985 raised over £150 million and the Band Aid Charitable Trust continues to receive funds to support humanitarian programmes in Africa. This is a mind-blowing story of goodness, persistence and humanity overcoming adversity. Neil Waite (Jan 2026)
I had a dream that I was in New Orleans with Robert De Niro, Harvey Keitel, and Jake LaMotta. We all watched Muhammad Ali wear down Joe Frazier at the Superdome before heading off to a bar where we ran into Tony Curtis…
Wait a minute, that’s no dream, it’s the opening of “Insomnia” by Robbie Robertson (Penguin 2025), a sequel of sorts to his 2016 memoir, “Testimony”. The visit to New Orleans comes at the end of the actual story but opens the book, setting the tone for what follows. And make no mistake, a memoir that begins with Jake LaMotta threatening to crush Tony Curtis’ face is a book about blokes, a buddy story, the self-styled Rock and Roll odd couple. Robbie Robertson and Martin Scorsese’s adventures in the late 70s are no secret. In Peter Suskind’s “Easy Riders, Raging Bulls”, Sandy Weintraub says, ‘It’s a shame that Marty wasn’t gay. The best relationship he ever had was with Robbie Robertson.’ Probably the most fun too. “Insomnia” outlines the period when Robbie moved into Marty’s Mullholland house and the two partied with Jack Nicholson, watched old movies, caroused with starlets, hoovered industrial amounts of blow, and ate like kings, courtesy of Francis Ford Coppola’s chef, Dan. You will hear Robbie’s voice while you read. He was a great storyteller and these bad boy adventures are served up in his usual wry manner. If you are looking for music content, there are only a few glimpses in between assignations with Jennifer O’Neill, Tuesday Weld, Geneviève Bujold, and many, many others. In the background is the end of The Band. His relationship with Levon is on life support and Richard Manuel’s drinking is getting even more serious. The story of how Out Of The Blue was written and recorded grabbed me – one of my favourite Band songs – and I wanted more. If you are a fan of The Last Waltz film (and who isn’t?), there is plenty here about how it was all put together. As the notches on Robbie’s guitar strap mounted up, I kept asking myself why I was reading it. I guess the answer is obvious. It was just good to hear that voice again. Tony Thompson (Jan 2026)
It’s a story that involves rioting against Wombles, dirty deeds by corporate giants, an Irishman taking on the world, the world taking on Simon Cowell, some of the worst songs ever committed to vinyl – and some of the very best. “The Story Of The Christmas No.1” by Marc Burrows (McNidder & Grace, 2025) is a joyful, affectionate exploration of a uniquely British cultural institution: the annual scramble for the Christmas chart top spot. More than a nostalgic celebration of festive pop, the book reveals a rich tapestry of social history and national identity. Burrows roots his narrative in the longer tradition of Christmas music but focuses most of his engaging account on the era when glam rock turned the Christmas No. 1 into a serious contest, right through to today’s world of social-media campaigns and streaming. His writing is light yet meticulously researched; he balances humour and heartfelt homage with enough detail to satisfy both music lovers and cultural historians. A particular strength is his archival work – trawling not just the music ‘inkies’ like NME and Melody Maker but local papers too. Who knew the Cheshire Observer would, forty years later, shed fresh light on Frankie Goes to Hollywood? These insights, alongside a wealth of surprising anecdotes, bring the quirks and unpredictability of the festive chart battle vividly to life. Occasionally, though, the book’s cultural and historical strengths sit alongside geographical slips: Reading is relocated to Middlesex, while George Michael becomes an Essex boy. Still, this is as much a book about how Britain celebrates Christmas as it is about music – a communal ritual grounded in shared memories, broadcasts, and record shops. Quibbles over geography aside, it’s a warm, witty, and engaging read for anyone who has ever argued about what should be the Christmas No.1. A genuine treat, and an ideal stocking filler. Mike Press (Dec 2025)
I used to maintain a blog where I reviewed books about music. It was fun but I started to lose heart when so many memoirs were either score settling diatribes – ‘the worst drummer I’ve ever worked with’ – or cliché fests – ‘then I saw Elvis on tv and everything changed.’ Biographies were better but many seemed to favour salacious gossip over detail about the artist’s actual work. This is a long-winded way of saying that “Music Is The Drug: The Authorised Biography of Cowboy Junkies” by Dave Bowler (Omnibus, 2021) doesn’t fall into any of those disappointing camps. He spent 15 years interviewing band members, side musicians, producers, friends, fans, and family members to produce this cracker of a band biography. He digs deep into the music, the lyrics, and the somewhat curious career of a band that might be described as the best kept secret in rock and roll. ‘Authorised’ biographies can suggest a sanitised version of the story but in this case, it means a good relationship with the band and access to the key players. Bowler, whose current day job seems to be chief historian at West Bromwich Albion FC (this will mean something to UK readers presumably), is a stickler for detail. I love reading about how albums are recorded so I was hooked when I learned that the band’s first two albums were recorded with a single Calrec Ambisonic microphone. This isn’t to say that it’s a book for wonks only. If you are curious about how a band that includes three siblings has stayed together for so long – no small feat in rock and roll – he does all that stuff too. Omnibus probably took a chance with this one but I’m glad they did. It’s the right book for the right band. For those new to the Cowboy Junkies, there is plenty here about music in general and life in a working rock and roll band. They toured with Townes Van Zandt … How’s that for a teaser?! Tony Thompson (Nov 2025)
Victor Wooten’s 2008 book “The Music Lesson: A Spiritual Search for Growth Through Music” (Berkley Books) is a captivating parable that transcends traditional instruction manuals, weaving a narrative around a young musician’s encounters with an enigmatic mentor named Michael. It explores themes of groove, improvisation, and the interconnectedness of music and life, urging readers to listen beyond notes to the soul of sound. I like it for its blend of storytelling, humour, and profound insights. In it, Victor (‘The Jimi Hendrix of bass’) uses the story to introduce the reader to concepts of music and teaching. As a musician and instrument teacher I found much to chew on. A couple of the ideas that resonated with me: teachers don’t teach – students learn. When the student is ready, the teacher will appear. Ideas such as what are the basics of music get explored: it’s much more than rhythm, melody and harmony. And Victor points out that we don’t teach children the alphabet then the rules of grammar then teach them to speak. Children speak and learn from speaking with and listening to others. Why don’t we do the same with music? The enigma that is Michael – is he based on a real character? – makes the book far more than a philosophical treatise on the practice of music. The novel has a range of characters who are interesting but Michael is the key. I recommend listening to the audiobook, which has a wonderful soundtrack composed and played by the author in the background while Victor and a small cast read the book in character. Although I don’t agree with everything he posits, he certainly argues his case well. And it has improved my understanding of teaching and the art of playing music. Thoroughly recommend. David Lewis (Nov 2025)
“I Am Brian Wilson” by Brian Wilson with Ben Greenman (Coronet, 2016). The front cover blurb reads “I am Brian Wilson. The genius behind the Beach Boys”. He was born in California, sung about California and never moved for long away from California. His geographical world was a surprisingly local one; he gave California a sun and surf mythology that has become part of its character. Brian freely admits he was never much of a surfer. He wasn’t a great one for the beach at all as his skin was sensitive to the sun and he had to keep covered up. Neither were cars and hot rods of particular interest, other than he liked driving a car like any young man. Of the three brothers, Brian and Carl were the most musical. Dennis was the only real surfer. Brian finds it difficult to talk of his father, a violent abusive man, who he tries to defend as well as condemn. The mixed messages from this moody, sometimes generous/sometimes cruel individual were probably worse than if he’d been an out and out monster, at least the brothers would have known where they were with him. This is an honest and revealing book, well edited and put together, with lots of interesting facts emerging to hold your interest throughout. It captures the modest personality of a troubled genius. And like his music it moves you in a way that isn’t always easy to explain. Paul F. Newman (Oct 2025)
Paul McCartney once said, “We’re a community, majority vote, up the workers and all that stuff.” Inspiring words – except they weren’t his at all, but Alun Owen’s, the scriptwriter of A Hard Day’s Night. Owen is one of the hundred figures celebrated in Stuart Maconie’s latest book “With A Little Help From Their Friends: The Beatles changed the world. But who changed theirs?” (Harper North, 2025), a reminder that The Beatles were never a closed shop. They thrived on outside ideas, unexpected influences, and the right people turning up at the right moment – and Maconie has gone in search of those people. If you’re not a die-hard Beatles completist, you might ask whether the world really needs another book about them. But that’s not the question. The real question is: Do we need another book by Stuart Maconie? The answer is an unqualified yes. Maconie is a masterful storyteller who can make us see places, people, music, and culture from fresh, surprising angles – and this volume proves it once again.
Here are a hundred short, engaging portraits from the Beatles’ extended cast. Some are instantly recognisable – Jane Asher, Tariq Ali, Peter Blake. Others are gloriously obscure – the calypsonian Lord Woodbine, for instance – and many come from the band’s own intimate circles: family members, school friends, ex-bandmates, partners, and the indispensable “other Fab Four” who kept the whole enterprise rolling – George, Brian, Mal, and Neil. Nor was it a boys’ club, as the vital contributions of Mona, Astrid, Maureen, Freda and others make clear. “All great myths need a great monster,” writes Maconie, as he unveils the subject of his final chapter. The result is a vivid portrait of a rich, diverse creative ecosystem. Maconie writes with his trademark wit, warmth, and unerring eye for human detail. It’s a labour of love, a joy to read, and a gentle reminder that even the biggest legends still need a little help from their friends. Mike Press (Oct 2025)
In their bright frocks, chunky monkey boots and boyish haircuts, the vivacious postpunk hopefuls Dolly Mixture were hard to miss around town in late-70s Cambridge. I’d occasionally bump into their bassist and frontwoman Debsey Wykes, who lived a couple of doors down from my girlfriend, at gigs and house-parties. Now, almost 50 years on, Debsey is ready to tell her story. Teenage Daydream: We are the Girls Who Play in a Band (New Modern, 2025) is a brilliant, honest, at times hilarious read. Drawing in part on her well-kept teenage diaries and fan letters, Debsey charts her own musical youth from those first fist-fumbled power chords (as she puts it) in the spring of 1978, to the Dolly Mixture’s eventual split in the early 80s. Along the way she recalls best mates, bookings at London clubs (they were even supported by an embryonic U2 for a couple of gigs), backing Captain Sensible on Top of the Pops, and how the Dollys were briefly championed by the Modfather himself, Paul Weller, eventually signing to his Respond label. Success seemed only a beat away. Ultimately though, Cambridge’s finest girl group had to settle for airplay on the John Peel show and a devoted cult audience. But in a way that’s the story. Not every band makes it big. Back then there were few all-female bands but namechecked here are the Mo-dettes, who I remember were also terrific live, and the Gymslips, who supported the Dollys on tour. It’s worth noting though that the pioneering Dolly Mixture predated them both. Debsey was in it for all the right reasons and her infectious lo-fi pop still jangles down through the years. Scooting through the bittersweet Teenage Daydream brings it all back for me. If you have any interest in indie and punk from the 70s and 80s, read this book. Rob Webb (Sep 2025)
With “George Clinton and the Cosmic Odyssey of the P-Funk Empire” (Omnibus Press, 2024 edition), author Kris Needs plots Clinton’s journey from 1950s doo-wop into funk pioneer right through to his influence on the early hip-hop scene. This is less a Clinton biography and far more a deep dive into the funk family tree as the rolling cast of members in his empire are all introduced and followed as they branch off into their own various side projects. Needs is a Clinton superfan whose enthusiasm for his subject shines through and ensures that even the most obscure work from the P-Funk alumni is given due attention. As he states in his introduction “It’s hard to imagine what life would have been without P-Funk or how music might have ended up today.” This is the great strength of the book as it almost demands the creation of an ever-growing list of records to discover. Adding to the track-by-track analysis of much of Clinton’s discography are first hand accounts taken from interviews with the man himself as well as collaborators and friends. They paint a picture of a chaotic, drug fuelled whirl of creativity all pulled together by the vision and pioneering spirit of Clinton. So fascinating a character is Clinton that one book would struggle to do him total justice and I’m sure there is space for another book to delve into his remarkable, one-of-a-kind personality, but as a record of his work and influence Needs ticks all the boxes. John Laking (Sep 2025)
Justin Currie’s Parkinson’s diagnosis came as a massive shock to me. I no longer have to imagine how big a shock it was to Justin as he has written this book, “The Tremolo Diaries: Life On The Road And Other Diseases” (New Modern, 2025). We are introduced early to The Ghastly Affliction and learn of the diagnosis. Also, to Gavin, a shaky right hand who along with Justin is the main character in this unlikely buddy story. His appearances are unwelcome, unannounced and unrelenting. Part one as Del Amitri trek across the US as support to Barenaked Ladies from enormodome to enormodome is essentially a tour guide. Part two takes us to Europe as support to Simple Minds. Through more recognisable towns and cities Justin still manages to draw a smile or a tear, a guffaw or a pang of pain and frustration. I haven’t travelled much, hardly at all. I now want to start. As a travel guide the book gets 5 stars. We learn that touring with a band is mind-numbingly dull, repetitive and bleak except for the time spent on stage. Unless of course you’re fighting an errant and unpredictable right hand. So, as well as regaling us with tales of locals, mega stores, museums (lots of museums), art galleries (lots of art galleries), eateries (lots of eateries) and the gigs, we learn of the impact of Parkinson’s disease on a person who happens to be a successful (yes you are Justin, despite your protestations) professional musician. Justin Currie has always written about the shit side of life, love and loss with brutal honesty in his songs. This book, this diary, this opus, this confessional, this therapy session, whatever it is, takes it to another level. Writing this honest, and this exposing, doesn’t come along often. Dave Ross (Aug 2025 – for a longer appraisal of The Tremolo Diaries visit Dave’s website.)
Peter Watts’ Denmark Street (Paradise Road, 2023) tells the story of one of Britain’s most iconic musical thoroughfares. Known as Tin Pan Alley, Denmark Street was once a hive of music publishers, demo studios, and publicists. The Sex Pistols lived there, the Rolling Stones recorded there, and David Bowie camped out in the back of a converted ambulance. Melody Maker was founded on the street, the NME launched Britain’s first music chart there, and in an office at the end of the road, The Beatles signed the contract that ultimately lost them their songs. Watts captures these and many other stories in a richly layered history told with flair and precision. Blending archival research, personal anecdotes, and interviews with musicians, producers, and industry insiders, the book charts how this small Soho street became the engine room of British pop. Watts traces its evolution from a hub of sheet music sales in the early 20th century to its creative heyday in the 1960s and 70s. What sets this book apart – and is a real highlight – is Watts’ sensitivity to the street’s changing fortunes, particularly in the face of gentrification and redevelopment. His writing is affectionate but never sentimental, handling the cultural significance of Denmark Street with journalistic rigour and a touch of melancholy. A wonderful read for anyone curious about the history behind the sounds that shaped a nation. Mike Press (Aug 2025)
A celebration of “three people who really love pop music”, Ramzy Alwakeel’s “How We Used Saint Etienne To Live” (Repeater Books, 2022) pays effusive tribute to Bob Stanley, Pete Wiggs and Sarah Cracknell – those advocates of “persistent melody, evocative storytelling, dry humour and laser-precise arrangements”. Long-time fan Alwakeel opens with a charming origin story – he reveals that he first discovered Saint Etienne during Britpop’s zenith via the inclusion of their luminescent infidelity banger He’s On The Phone on Now That’s What I Call Music! 33. This feels entirely appropriate, given SE founder member and pop obsessive Bob Stanley has pinpointed receiving Benny Hill’s “Ernie (The Fastest Milkman in the West)” as a Christmas gift in 1971 as an entry point for his own subsequent Damascene conversion. Placing these Home Counties pop sages in the lineage of pre-WW2 American song-gatherer Alan Lomax and hip-hop’s cut n’ mixers via their trademark synthesis of 60s aesthetic and modernist sensibility, Alwakeel contemplates the enduring appeal of Saint Etienne’s three and a half decades’ worth of negotiating memory and a sense of place via a singular approach to disinterring archive sound, neatly described here as an unswerving ability to “use the past in a way that could only be contemporary”. With Saint Etienne’s forthcoming LP being described as “their final album-length statement”, we end with a lengthy inventory of the author’s most cherished St Et acquisitions: an apt conclusion for a book dedicated to a group who, in Stanley’s own words, were “born out of a love of records”. Matt Tomiak (Jul 2025)
I love books that place music in the context of social history – and if they include maps, that’s an added bonus. Aniefiok Ekpoudom’s Where We Come From: Rap, Home And Hope In Modern Britain (Faber & Faber, 2023) provides both. This compelling social history explores the evolution of UK rap and grime, offering a vivid account of the vibrant scenes in South London, Birmingham, and South Wales. Ekpoudom highlights the diverse communities that have shaped the music in these regions. Rather than focusing on mainstream figures, the book shines a light on lesser-known artists such as Cadet, Astroid Boys, and Despa Robinson. Through their stories, Ekpoudom illustrates how rap and grime have given voice to marginalised communities, reflecting their struggles, resilience, and aspirations. His writing is both lyrical and empathetic, skilfully weaving personal narratives with broader socio-cultural analysis. He traces the roots of these genres back to the post-Windrush era, linking them to the everyday experiences of Black and working-class Britons. This is a readable and illuminating book that ties music to a strong sense of place. It is as much about the history of these locations and their communities as it is about the music they produce. A vital contribution to understanding the people’s music of modern Britain. Mike Press (Jul 2025)
I first met Jakko in the late 1970s when he fronted a band with the enigmatic name 64 Spoons. Who’s The Boy With The Lovely Hair? The Unlikely Memoir Of Jakko M. Jakszyk (Kingmaker Publishing, 2024) tells the story of his childhood, his quest for his birth parents, his musical journey and how he met and worked with his musical heroes – up to and including (spoiler alert) Robert Fripp and joining King Crimson as vocalist and second guitarist. I have to declare an interest. I have Jakko’s solo albums, the 64 Spoons album, and the King Crimson triple CD collection Live in Vienna on which he sings. The narrative takes some unexpected twists and opens with a conversation with his American stepbrother, which I read twice with incredulity before moving into the book itself. Having said all that, there is some social commentary about growing up in the Watford area in the 1960s and having adoptive parents neither of whom had English as their first language. His father was Polish and his mother French. The revelation close to the end of the book reveals the source of its title and I won’t spoil that for you. The book was published in late 2024 and I read it over four days between Christmas and New Year. Jakko is a fine storyteller, he makes you smile, he makes you laugh out loud, he makes your eyebrows raise in surprise and in passages, brings a lump to your throat. There is an impending CD to accompany the book called Son Of Glen with music that I believe that Jakko was inspired to write while researching and writing the book. Ian Ashleigh (Jun 2025)
Heartbreak Is The National Anthem: How Taylor Swift Reinvented Pop Music by Rob Sheffield (Harper Collins, 2024) in which the long-time Rolling Stone staffer provides a droll, spirited fan’s eye view of Taylor’s dizzying rise to global supremacy. And what a ride it is. In Heartbreak Is The National Anthem we follow her career from preternaturally assured adolescent, personally delivering home demos to the country music bigwigs along Nashville’s renowned Music Row, via feuds, mass fandom and eventually the gargantuan success – or “Taypocalypse” – of the world-conquering Eras Tour. Memorably encapsulating her appeal to legions of young admirers (think, Sheffield tells us, “The Beatles times Motown times Bruce Springsteen times Britney times strawberry ice cream …”), he deploys an Anglophile 80s pop prism – there are namechecks for Morrissey, Paul Morley and the first Depeche Mode LP – to frame Swift’s work, reminding us of the mind-blowingly high standards that she’s maintained throughout an Imperial Phase that’s now, remarkably, approaching a full two decades. Matt Tomiak (May 2025)
