Post by Lord Emsworth on Jun 23, 2020 10:57:10 GMT
What's your view of Shane and the boys?
When they were at their peak they were magnificent
A few years back I read...
When they were at their peak they were magnificent
A few years back I read...
It's a five star read
Here's my review...
And he wrote us a book of times long gone...
Well written, astute, honest, and full of great anecdotes and insightful day-to-day details. For a book that is essentially a chronological document of the history of The Pogues, the book was engrossing and always interesting.
As with most memoirs, an interest in the subject matter is pretty much essential, however, if you’re reading this, then chances are you feel some affinity to The Pogues. If that’s the case then I confidently assert you should love this book. My only pause for thought is the range of ratings this book has inspired.
I loved it. To give you an idea of the quality of the writing and the type of insights on offer, here is a description of Shane MacGowan nodding off on the tour bus...
"Sleep came upon him this way. He never planned it. He was heedless of the fact that the passage of time was divided into dark or light. Whatever sleep-cycle he might once have had, he had bent into more or less a straight line, punctuated with random periods of unconsciousness. These periods didn't synchronise at all with the diurnal round, no match with the routine of being on the road. I pitied him for it and for what seemed not so much his fear of unconsciousness but the transition into it. The workings of his intellect were tireless and gave him no release. A malevolent energy possessed him. It goaded him to talk, draw cartoons, scrawl lyrics across crumpled pieces of paper, clink the rings on his fingers incessantly against the side of his bottle of wine or on a tabletop, tap his foot on the floor.”
Although Shane MacGowan is probably the person who looms largest over the history of The Pogues it is to James Fearnley’s credit that his presence does not dominate the book. Indeed it is The Pogues as both a collective and, as the various disparate individual members, who get equal billing, and this adds to the book's richness.
From the tale end of pre-Pogues band The Nips, via the world of King's Cross squats and Camden housing association flats and small gigs in nearby pubs, and onward eventually to mainstream acceptance, this is a great read that evokes the doomed, mythological, fiercely romantic world of the band and their rise and fall. The slow, inexorable decline of the inscrutable Shane MacGowan is very painful to read, as is the helpless response of his band as they watch him become ever less reliable and functional, until finally, and in the opening chapter, they finally agree to fire him.
It’s a hell of a read, always interesting and frequently fascinating, even Shane MacGowan agrees…“It’s just how I imagine I’d remember it”
Well written, astute, honest, and full of great anecdotes and insightful day-to-day details. For a book that is essentially a chronological document of the history of The Pogues, the book was engrossing and always interesting.
As with most memoirs, an interest in the subject matter is pretty much essential, however, if you’re reading this, then chances are you feel some affinity to The Pogues. If that’s the case then I confidently assert you should love this book. My only pause for thought is the range of ratings this book has inspired.
I loved it. To give you an idea of the quality of the writing and the type of insights on offer, here is a description of Shane MacGowan nodding off on the tour bus...
"Sleep came upon him this way. He never planned it. He was heedless of the fact that the passage of time was divided into dark or light. Whatever sleep-cycle he might once have had, he had bent into more or less a straight line, punctuated with random periods of unconsciousness. These periods didn't synchronise at all with the diurnal round, no match with the routine of being on the road. I pitied him for it and for what seemed not so much his fear of unconsciousness but the transition into it. The workings of his intellect were tireless and gave him no release. A malevolent energy possessed him. It goaded him to talk, draw cartoons, scrawl lyrics across crumpled pieces of paper, clink the rings on his fingers incessantly against the side of his bottle of wine or on a tabletop, tap his foot on the floor.”
Although Shane MacGowan is probably the person who looms largest over the history of The Pogues it is to James Fearnley’s credit that his presence does not dominate the book. Indeed it is The Pogues as both a collective and, as the various disparate individual members, who get equal billing, and this adds to the book's richness.
From the tale end of pre-Pogues band The Nips, via the world of King's Cross squats and Camden housing association flats and small gigs in nearby pubs, and onward eventually to mainstream acceptance, this is a great read that evokes the doomed, mythological, fiercely romantic world of the band and their rise and fall. The slow, inexorable decline of the inscrutable Shane MacGowan is very painful to read, as is the helpless response of his band as they watch him become ever less reliable and functional, until finally, and in the opening chapter, they finally agree to fire him.
It’s a hell of a read, always interesting and frequently fascinating, even Shane MacGowan agrees…“It’s just how I imagine I’d remember it”
