Nik Cohn

I’m conflicted about this book. On the one hand, Awopbop, Etc. is an interesting history of the first two decades of rock music, written by a man who was a fan first, music critic second, and who was there. It’s informative, with a lot of anecdotes about stage performances and such which give a good sense of what it was like to see the Stones or the Who or Little Richard perform, or to be in the music scene at the time. It had me looking up musical styles and artists, and did a good job of showing the progression of rock and, to a point, the interactions between the parallel musical styles.

On the other hand, this was written by a man who was there and published in 1968, so the hip, pattery writing style doesn’t always hold up well—he sounds cynical and pithy when he’s being affectionate, he chooses some deeply unsavory words—and a good number of his opinions are … sigh. This is probably one to steel yourself for a bit, if you’re Black, female, or Black-and-female, for instance.

Also, because he was living the history, there are artists he missed because they were largely overshadowed (Sister Rosetta Tharpe is notable), connections he doesn’t make, and tastes and opinions that you/I don’t agree with for all that they are, again, interesting to read. (Sergeant Pepper’s is not bad rock music just because it doesn’t have simple, catchy single, I don’t care what he says.)

This is a great book to read if you’re really into the subject or want to read a contemporary perspective on the early years of rock, like I was. But there are probably better, more complete histories out there, and I’ll be looking for them.

All the same, I do kind of want to read Cohn’s opinion on metal, disco, and glam. What did he make of Queen? Bowie? I’m sure he’d have hated ABBA.… (altro)

I came across I Am Still the Greatest Says Johnny Angelo in an article detailing the books that David Bowie read and was influenced by. That's good enough for me, but when you add to that the fact that it was key inspiration for the character of Ziggy Stardust, then count me in!

The enduring mythical status of Nik Cohn's novel is this connection to Bowie, but it is one that, like so many myths, is perhaps better preserved at a distance rather than being investigated closely. In the preface, Cohn recalls how he dashed out this book after a lengthy interview with legendary rocker PJ Proby, an American who had a few hits in the mid-1960s in the UK before fading into obscurity. Proby's story was so wild, Cohn just knew he had to transform into a fantastical tale of his own about a boy who lives his life with the assumption that he is bound for superstardom.

Cohn was only eighteen at the time he wrote this book. While it is reasonably competent for what one might expect from such a young author, unfortunately it still suffers from a lack of maturity and critical distance. Johnny Angelo swaggers through the story that more resembles one of those lives of a Christian or Buddhist saint, full of encounters with strange antagonists and packed with impossible miracles.

While Johnny Angelo may think he's the greatest, it's clear that so does Nik Cohn, and although it's not hard to understand why Bowie took that supreme self-confidence and ran with it, the Ziggy Stardust character is already nuanced by the missteps and failures that litter Bowie's very early career. Of course, it is precisely this utter egoism that is part of the supposed of this text, so perhaps I am asking too much.

In the end, I'm not sorry to have read I Am Still the Greatest Says Johnny Angelo, and I do recommend it to those who are particularly interested in this period of British culture. Otherwise, it's probably better to leave this text wrapped firmly in the mythical veils it has wrapped around itself.… (altro)