Diary Of A Punk
'The only thing you learn from suffering is that you're capable of suffering.'
From it’s title resembling Ian Hunter’s monumental memoir Diary Of A Rock’n’Roll Star to it’s subheading Life And Death this is one essential dirt, despair and macabre-dripping diatribe from the Pagans leader, arguably Ohio’s greatest buncha miscreant true-life nihilist outsiders to dangle in the underworld. As those titles may suggest to you, this is one of those rather rare music books that should be scoured and sourced by more than simply the fans. Far more than the lid being lifted to reveal the stench that produced viciously desperate discourses like Dead End America, Nowhere To Run, Give Til It Hurts, When I Die, Street Where Nobody Lives and What’s This Shit Called Love? - that latter at least one of the leering, lurching all-time unacknowledged anthems - this details the descents and dirt-shooting alleys that lay ahead of many an ‘onest ‘erbert scrabbling about in the gutters of this industry, and frequently beneath those. This guy liaised, conversed, even coerced and drank, and drank, and…with the sorta rats that would consider the trenches too fucking posh. Culminating with the death of his brother and his lapse into advanced cirrhosis, perhaps leavened with his setting up of successful paper Niagara Falls Reporter after several years scribing, this is a stunning, scathing and honest account of the ever-duelling rock’n’roll rackets of raw rampage and rip-offs that will rattle yer brains, shake some action and maybe unsettle some readers outta their own sewers, all told in a street-savvy philosophical style, straight-up, starker and touching for it. Anyways, as he may have said hisselvis - read it in this book, maybe we’ll see it on TV in his lifetime. Stay well.