VJ: The Unplugged Adventures of MTV's First Wave

An advanced review copy was provided by the publisher via NetGalley.

When MTV joined the Cablevision lineup, it was the first stop I scrolled to on our cable box, the magical beige rectangle that increased our TV viewing options from six to FORTY-TWO channels. Oh, we were living large. MTV introduced me to music and bands that I rarely, if ever, heard on Jacksonville radio. Even in its infancy, MTV scooped radio by introducing us to artists who would eventually conquer several media. That girl with half her head shaved, leading a conga line through New York City? That Australian band playing in their underwear? I didn't hear them on the radio first.

To hear my parents tell it, you would have thought Satan purchased a TV network and started broadcasting on cable. Of course they hated it - I still remember the stunned, WTF expression on my father's face when Motley Crue's "Looks That Kill" aired one Saturday morning, and we couldn't switch to the next channel fast enough when my mother entered the den. They didn't want us watching MTV; they believed some videos with questionable content were too racy and/or violent for us impressionable youths. In the network's defense, I disagreed (but it's not like a ten-year-old had a vote in this situation). Early on, many videos amounted to footage from concert films and appearances elsewhere on television. Other promotional videos may have simply featured the band in a studio or on a stage with no bells, whistles, or whores (pretty much every video Rush filmed). Also, none of us kids ended up as juvenile delinquents or criminals as a result of prolonged exposure to MTV. One of us is a vice-president of something.

Today, I couldn't tell you on which channel you'll find MTV, or MTV 2 and whatever else has spawned. It's mostly crap now, and while I'm partial to good crap I go elsewhere for it. When I want to ride my mid-life crisis, I cruise through my YouTube playlists. One might argue we don't really need MTV anymore - it's no different from half the networks dependent on reality shows for ratings - and some may feel we might have done just fine without it. I personally wouldn't mind a rebirth - not necessarily to feed my appetite for nostalgia, but for an artistic marriage of video and music.

When I saw VJ: The Unplugged Adventures of MTV's First Wave available, I knew I had to review it for the blog. In defending my desire to watch MTV, I had placed the original five VJs as Exhibits A through E - they looked like normal people you'd have over for dinner. There were no visible skull tattoos or piercings. You'd think between perky Martha Quinn and boyish-next-door goofball Alan Hunter I'd have a good argument for MTV not spearheading the decline of Western civilization. Thirty years later, I open to the first chapter of this book and Alan and Mark recall doing blow with various rock stars. I wonder if my mother would allow me to watch MTV now.

VJ, like Starting Over, is presented as an oral history, in that the four surviving VJ pioneers (the fifth, J.J. Jackson, is sadly no longer with us) round-robin their memories of the network's genesis and first half-decade. Of the quintet, Jackson and Goodman came to the network with the strongest backgrounds in radio and music knowledge, while Hunter, Blackwood, and Quinn were likely recruited to appeal to specific viewer demographics. Talk of money quickly establishes that this operation didn't work like Friends - it wasn't "all for one, one for all" when it came to salaries or perks. In fact, it surprised me to read how bare-bones the first VJs had it. Everybody learned on the air through trial and error, whether it was ad-libbing to fill space or appeasing a record label in order to broadcast videos. In my memory MTV seemed to run seamlessly from VJ intro to video, and back again. Bear in mind, it has been many years, and likely the VJs didn't get as much air time as I recall.

If you enjoy rock gossip without having to decipher blind items, you'll find plenty to like in VJ. You'll live vicariously through four voices regaling us with tales of sex (and failed attempts at it), drugs, and awkward interviews. Want to know which of your idols was an asshole, and which Top 10 ballad Nina Blackwood inspired? There are answers within. In between the juicy bits and personal vignettes, VJ provides a nice history of the network itself and its evolution from 24/7 music to a major influence on the entertainment industry. I especially found the chapter on MTV's coverage of Live Aid interesting, since for years I had been angered by how the VJs monopolized camera time during such an event. I could see Martha Quinn on TV every damn day...why would I want to watch her dancing while Paul Frickin' McCartney was playing "Let It Be" during the London finale? It's some comfort to know that cutting to her wasn't her call.

That said, I was also disappointed not to see any information on how MTV revived The Monkees. It did happen toward the end of Quinn's and Hunter's tenures, and how MTV handled the band following a FTA at an event (covered in Monkee Business) spoke volumes of the network's power to make and break musicians at the time. I am still interested in their perception of MTV as a music influence and if any other artists suffered due to the network's neglect. In the book there's mention of how MTV likely nurtured a short-attention span mentality, something that became evident personally when certain VJs left the network. Despite our general tendencies to find distraction, my memory of MTV's glory years remain strong. VJ is a fun reminder of the days video killed the radio stars...though I wonder if video is looking over its shoulder now.

Rating: B

Kathryn Lively is the author of the Rock and Roll Mysteries featuring Lerxst Johnston: Rock Deadly and Rock Til You Drop, and of the collection of short stories, The Girl With the Monkee Tattoo.

Rubber Soul by Greg Kihn

If you're my age (and the coming reference is the only hint you're getting), you are probably familiar with Greg Kihn. Turn on your local BOB or JACK "we play anything" radio station and chances are the song Jeopardy is in rotation, sandwiched between Taco's Putting on the Ritz and that horrid Will.I.Am/Britney earworm. Greg Kihn co-wrote and performed Jeopardy, which was a huge song in its day. Constant MTV airing huge, Weird Al parody huge. If you haven't given Kihn a thought since 1984, no need to worry. He's apparently still kicking and writing in another arena.

Kihn's latest effort, Rubber Soul (AMZ), follows the adventures of a Liverpudlian entrepreneur as his life intersects periodically with those of several hometown friends striving to launch careers in music. I have read quite a few Beatle-inspired novels, and reviewed some Beatles fiction here in the past - I find stories like these go either away in terms of quality. I hesitate to call such works glorified fan fiction, since the Beatles themselves are basically historical figures now, and it wouldn't be fair to lump these books as fanfics when other writers bring true to life people into fiction and dodge the stigma. That said, some stories I have read seem to lack the polish that carries the characters out of fandom into something serious. In the case of Rubber Soul, I found a concept that interested me -- a look at the early Beatles through the eyes of a friend -- despite the rough patches.

Bobby Dingle helps his father run his antiques shop in Liverpool. Like other teenagers in the port town, he's fascinated by American rock and roll, and through the right contacts is able to snare prized 45s before anyone else in town (What's a 45? It's like an MP3, but different. Google it.). His love for American rhythm and blues and rock solidifies a friendship with a young John Lennon, and soon Bobby's position as the band's Forrest Gump is secured. Throughout the story - from encounters in Hamburg, Bobby's later adopted home of Baltimore, and London - Bobby peppers little influences like Easter eggs for John to find and integrate into the Beatles' success. If you're a fan, you'll spot them on sight.

As the reader gets a lesson in early rock and roll - with names of the Fabs' musical idols sounded off in a constant roll call - dark shadows cast occasional palls over the action. Bobby's thug half-brothers, Mick and Clive, cause trouble for the band, while fatal events in Hamburg have a lasting impact. Rubber Soul covers the period from the late 50s to the Beatles' nightmarish experience in Manila, in 1966. I've read more than my share of Beatle bios, too, and while Kihn doesn't specify actual dates throughout the story he appears to present an accurate timeline of events. That one scene where John dupes Bobby into trying LSD? I confirmed the date John tried it for the first time (it's a fairly famous story, mind you), just to make certain. A casual music fan may gloss over particulars, but a Beatleologist can nit-pick. Given that the pace of Rubber Soul runs rather swiftly, one may accept that Kihn properly placed the fixed points in Beatles history within his fiction. Curiously, though, this story omits the "bigger than Jesus" controversy altogether.

So, accuracy aside, is the story any good? Firstly, I commend any author willing to fictionalize people who existed. I did find overall dialogue stiff at times - in some parts it didn't feel natural, more like a recital of facts. I did like that the story focused more on Bobby as he connected with a variety of supporting players - the fictional Clovis, for example, came off more colorful as the rest, which would make sense given the author could write the character more freely.

Rubber Soul should please Beatles fans, and fans of early rock and roll. You'll find it's more than another version of an oft-told history, but a view of a changing time as youthful innocence morphs into moments of cynicism and turbulence. Ending with the events in The Philippines seems to cut the story short, but it doesn't make the ride there any less thrilling.

An ARC of this book was provided via NetGalley by the publisher.

Rating: B-

Kathryn Lively is the author of the Rock and Roll Mysteries featuring Lerxst Johnston: Rock Deadly and Rock Til You Drop, and of the collection of short stories, The Girl With the Monkee Tattoo.

The Rolling Stones Discover America by Michael Lydon

Buy The Rolling Stones Discover America (Kindle Single)

True story: when it was announced that The Rolling Stones planned to bring the Steel Wheels tour to my home town, I drew the short straw to get tickets. Now, this happened way before the Internet and refreshing Web pages on LiveNation to get good seats. I had to drive to Turtles Records and Tapes about an hour before the sale began and pluck a strip of paper from a hat as part of the "lottery" system. There were rules, too: you entered the store when your number was called, and you took the tickets they gave you. Fine. We all thought this was the Last. Stones. Tour. Ever. I'd play ball.

As my number is called and I'm walking toward the store, this guy stops me. Would I buy three more tickets for him and his friends. A store clerk sees this and says, "Do you know him? You can only buy your tickets. No cuts." You have to understand I was a good Catholic teenager who couldn't deceive anybody. Catch me in crosshairs and I start blubbering. At the same time, I'm thinking this stranger is about to screw up my only chance to see the Stones. My memory is blurry, but somehow I managed to get past the checkpoint and buy six tickets. The show sold out in about a week. We sat in the boonies and loved it, because we thought these guys were winding down and would, contrary to a song they covered, fade away.

That was 1989.

As I'm reading The Rolling Stones Discover America, I experience a touch of deja vu, even though this Kindle single recounts an earlier tour of America. After a long hiatus from the road, the band has decided to resume live shows, and the reaction is similar to the Steel Wheels frenzy. I imagine many fans scrambling to see the 1970 tour figured it was a brief gift before an eternal exile to the studio, a la The Beatles. Rock journalist Lydon covers the journey in Discover, a longish essay that paints vivid pictures of the people and places along this journey. It reads like a series from Rolling Stone Magazine, too, which makes sense as Lydon was a founding editor.

The further you read into Discover, you may think the real story lies in the periphery of the band - the fans, the media, the family, and the gofers and manager who orbit the group. Names are dropped, and some snippits of conversation provide amusement - like when Keith Richards predicts nobody in the band will get an MBE like John Lennon (no, but Mick would be knighted). You'll read a line about Janis Joplin and Tina Turner hanging out after a show and wish for more details. When you first get into the chapter on Altamont, you get the impression people sensed the show was doomed. And just as quickly as the action happened there, so it is as quickly retold.

This is a quick read, not necessarily about The Rolling Stones but the climate in which they existed - a time in music where bands and listeners straddled the fine line between mop-top innocence and free-love hippiedom. It is a prelude to future explosions - civil rights movements, Vietnam, etc. It's certainly not meant to be a definitive story on the Stones, but it makes an interesting chapter in their careers worth reading.

Rating: B

Kathryn Lively is a mystery author and book blogger.

In the Pleasure Groove by John Taylor

You kids who have happened upon this blog for reasons I can't explain: you like that One Direction group, right? You have the dolls and the pillowcases and the skins for your iPhones and whatnot, because there is no better group to have walked the face of the planet, and you want to show your team stripes. Well, back in the 80s, what you call ancient history, the girls were not without their musical idols. They were called Duran Duran, and their fans were loyal to the point of frothing, skin-clawing madness. I would know, I lived in the midst of it. Girls scrawled "Mrs. Simon Le Bon" on their school folders, and held Duranie-themed birthday parties (you haven't lived until you've played Pin the Tail on the Ragged Tiger), and if you didn't have tickets to their concert at the Jacksonville Coliseum you were basically a loser with absolutely no reason to live.

All through this period of Duran-mania, while classmates drooled over pouting portraits of the three Taylors on the covers of Tiger Beat and 16, I asked my parents for a copy of The Police's Synchronicity.

I admit it, I wasn't into Duran Duran. At. All. I didn't buy any of their albums until long after I married, and even then it was a greatest hits CD, bought used. This doesn't mean I hated the group - I liked their music, but I didn't pray the rosary by it. It might explain why I had few friends in middle school. Yet, when I saw John Taylor had published a memoir I decided to give it a look for a number of reasons. I do find I listen more to 80s music these days, not for nostalgia but because many songs remain fresh after time - yes, the Durans included. The "Fab Five" reached the pinnacle of their fame in a time where musicians challenged fans to be more politically conscious and accommodating toward those less fortunate. This was the time of Live Aid and Little Steven's Sun City protest song. I picked up In the Pleasure Groove and wondered how Taylor and Duran Duran figured into all of that.

So, what do you learn about Duran Duran and Taylor here? Well, Pleasure Groove is pretty much a cut and dry history of the band, prefaced by chapters of Taylor's middle-class childhood which was defined by his mother's Catholic piety and a love for music. Taylor makes the group's rise through the ranks to superstardom seem almost easy - he helped form a band, they worked clubs, they cut a record and made videos, and the girls fell like dominoes. Yes, there are mentions of drugs and sex, and you'd expect to hear some lurid tales. Here, it just sounds...boring. Many of us today may be embarrassed by the 80s, but we definitely weren't bored then.

As I feared when I picked up this book, Pleasure Groove is for the fans. If you lived by Duran Duran then and now, you'll appreciate Taylor's effort to bring you into his personal space. If you're looking for a typical rock and roll memoir, this might leaving you wanting.

Rating C-

Kathryn Lively is a mystery author and book blogger.