John Lurie

All around really good memoir. Lurie’s life and work transversed so many styles, scenes, and famous figures. For someone interested in art of any kind in the last quarter of the 20th century, this book is chocked full of thoughtful musings, picaresque scenes, and (perhaps most notably) tons of shit talking of some of the most sacred cows of the cognoscenti. This last part could have easily taken this book off the rails, but Lurie seems pretty fair in his criticism, based as it is in first-hand experience with the people at hand. It also seems clear that his feelings come from a place of true respect for art and the fair treatment of people. Add to that that Lurie is constitutionally opposed to the sugarcoated image that most celebrities work so hard to maintain, and as you read this book you come to believe everything this man says, so down to earth and real is his voice. Its pretty cool to hear about what some of the most beatified figures of popular culture were like behind the scenes, warts and all.

I’d guess that the most used adjective in conjunction with Lurie is “cool”. At this point its become an overused and practically meaningless word, but its seems apt to say that this dude is the archetype of “cool” as it originally meant. He is cool in a way that Kareem Abdul Jabbar is tall; to us normal folks its hard to imagine what it would be like to live your life with such a god given gift. As Lurie described countless instances of random sex with hot women or multi day drug binges, I quickly realized that in order to make it in his world, one had to be gifted in someway to put up with all of it for so long, living under conditions that for all their hedonistic appeal would break most people into many tiny pieces. Props to Mr Lurie for sticking to his creative convictions and literally just surviving this long. The irony of his life is that for some one so talented and intensely charismatic, some one who the idea of “celebrity” seemed to be made for, he was so fucked over by so many people in the industry. Its a shame that so much of his energy over the years was spent on struggling with the forces that constitute the creative business, sheerly (at least according to him) due to his inability/unwillingness to play the game. Disturbing too, is the implication posed by the inverse: most, if not all, of the successful creative figures, artists we all know and love, were successful in large part due to their ability to manipulate, kiss ass, and sell their work.

My one criticism of the book might sound strange for a book of almost 500 pages: it wasn’t long enough. The story ends almost in medias res with a trip to Africa. Nothing about how he was able to reconstitute his band and make the final (and best) Lounge Lizards album, nothing about his subsequent decision to withdrawal from the public eye, nothing about his dedication to painting as shown on his recent TV show. Lurie might have thought his struggles with his health in recent years might now be very interesting as compared to the rock and roll life style he was living in the 80s and 90s, but to end the book right before what I can only assume was one of the most difficult times in his life seems to leave it unfinished. In light of the fact that Lurie also includes nothing of the situation detailed in. New Yorker piece about him that came about ten years ago, a piece reverenced with characteristic venom several times in the book, it may be that Lurie felt like this stuff, ironically, hit too close to home. Of course I respect that sentiment. But leaving out his later years I think strips the book of what could be some of its power.… (mehr)

dnf, but 4 stars? It's great, entertaining writing- John Lurie of the Lounge Lizards and Jarmusch, tells story after story of NYC and world hipster travels. Like a guy you once knew who talks non stop and always has such stories and you wonder how much of it is true. With Lurie, i suppose it is all true- i have no reason to doubt it- though it is a bit overwhelming. While loving reading it all- as in a gossipy tell-all, it does frequently read as a self serving whiny complaint on the world for the most part. No one can appreciate him, no one will pay him, everyone rips him off, it's all so unfair. He is sympathetic and brilliant and i do feel i am always on his side in these constant skirmishes, but geez, buddy - can you just do something without it being a drama contest? Still, what a great story and casual easy style makes one feel that one is hearing it straight from him... as an insider.… (mehr)

John Lurie, A History of Bones

A well written, fast paced dive into the making (and unmaking) of an artist.
From his roots in Worcester, Massachusetts, John Lurie led a wild ride into the downtown New York City arts scene in the late 1970s and 1980s.
By the end of the 20th century, he had catapulted himself to fame towards which he has developed a more jaundiced perspective. Wearing 2nd hand clothes from flea markets he ended up being called a fashion icon by Vogue magazine. Starting out he befriended other struggling young artists including Jean Michel Basquiat, Madonna, Wilhelm Defoe, Tom Waits and Jim Jarmusch.
Entertaining a string of girlfriends, he also developed a decades long drug habit that could have easily derailed his true quest. Accidentally becoming an acting phenomenon, his true love was for music. His group the Lounge Lizards which he co-founded with his brother Evan was an interchanging parade of great musicians who were often more difficult to control than a pack of wolves. On worldwide escapades he dealt with unscrupulous promotors, venue dives, and record executives with tin ears. Despite these obstacles he was able to create and compose music that, at times, resulted in his feeling close to God.
This memoir is touching, insightful, honest, funny, hard hitting, unrelenting and, at times, philosophical. Reading this unique story one comes away with an affection for the man and artist; a real charmer who has survived his battles and today is a wiser soul who can be viewed on HBOs Painting with John.… (mehr)

In the store I opened it for the first time at page 26-27: "Harry Didn't Want to Say Anything, But the Appearance of Jesus Was Ruining His Vacation". It made me chuckle out loud, but I didn't buy it. It was quite expensive. Next time I came in, the saleswoman, asked me if I came to read it piece by piece. But now I did buy it - I didn't need to buy presents this time - and she wrapped it up nicely for me.
I don't 'get' the book, It gets me. I love the black humour, the cynisism, the not believing in anything, just looking into the world and commenting...
A cynic or sick mind is a joy for life!… (mehr)