Apathy for the Devil

Good stories / encounters with 70's icons from stones / zeppelin to iggy, ramones, pistols and especially chrissy hynde - his love interest. His herione addiction is a big part of the story - which can be a downer.

The New Musical Express when it comes to rock writing is THE journal against which all others must measure up to and all fail to do so; Nick kent was one of their most famous and better writers. His book "The dark stuff" is actually a lot better because it was a collection of some of his best writing and each story was more focused. Here we get his memoirs of the 70's which was the decade where you had the post-hippie fallout as well as punkrock. He waas there to document it first-hand and knew a lot of the protagonists personally. One problem that was recurrent in the other book was his obsession with his place in relation to rock history and its protagonists. Indeed very often in the previous tome this prevented it from being absolutely perfect. Here we have of course more of an autobiography so of course kent focuses on himself. While doing so we get to meet some of the musicians that he had written about in the previous book. As a similar autobiography, the one by Mick Farren ("Give the anarchist a cigarette"), another British rock journalist, is much funnier and better, probably because Farren has more of a sense of humor and also because he was a musician himself, whereas Kent was shortly apparently a member of the band that became the Sex Pistols. He also spends way too much time recounting his experiences with heroin, even if for him it must have been an important but difficult time. Do not get me wrong, this is a very good book but, coming from Nick Kent I was expecting a great one. Indeed in his previous work he never failed to be botha great journalist who would document his times but also entertain; indeed, this bok lacks some of the dark humour that you had in the rpevious tome and Farren's work. anyway it is still probably one of the better rock books this year so it remains a solid indispensable work by a living legend.

I remember first reading Nick Kent articles in Frendz magazine in the early 70s (as covered in this biography his first such rock writings) and always had a soft spot for him as he then progressed to NME and became one of their star writers over subsequent years. In my view he gave rock writing in the UK the much needed kick up the rear end it needed (and in the process avoided much of the pretentiousness of the US version, especially Rolling Stone)and alongside the intellectual firepower of Ian MacDonald (I fear that I never had much time for Charles Shaar Murray) made the NME such a vital weekly read at that time.This book is a very honest warts and all biography of his middle class upbringing, early exposure to live early 60s rock and then moving to London ostensibly for a degree course. He soon became immersed in writing about that heady period of 70s rock in predominantly the UK and USA which takes up most of the book. His "honest acid drop" style in conveying his "how it is" descriptions, still brings a smile to my face with his comments on Jethro Tull and Queen and why he could never warm to them being especially memorable.At the same time his exposure to the Rolling Stones (especially Keef), Iggy Pop and Led Zeppelin put him on a course of living the rock 'n' roll lifestyle as a free loader while still writing great copy for the NME. Couple that with an emotionally draining relationship with Chrissie Hynde in her pre-Pretenders days as an NME reviewer and their subsequent break up catapulted him into several years of living life on the edge as his drug addiction levels increased. The book is very open in describing what happened and especially the previously touted view by others that Keith Richards was the catalyst to this development is rubbished.The full mess that was the Malcolm Maclaren exploited Sex Pistols (and how Kent first used and was then used as events unfolded around this group) which occupies a fair amount of the mid 70s makes for a much more thoughtful read as to what it was really like than the Jon Savage tome on the subject of punk rock to my mind.Kent's personal health decline as described in the book across this period as the 70s progressed is etched in my mind from first seeing him in the bar at a Dr. Feelgood's Roundhouse gig in the early 70s where his dress style and general appearance immediately marked him out and when he was clearly at the top of his game in the NME. Then about two-three years later I saw him in torn leathers and looking like warmed up death, selling a bundle of LPs for little cash at a second hand shop in Notting Hill which as this book makes clear would have probably been done to largely fund his next fix.The great news is that while the story heads on to its final nemesis and Kent having to face off his demons and declining health, plus lost all contacts and burnt his bridges to such an extent that he did not even get invited to Ian MacDonald's funeral after his later suicide, he did make it back. Now happily married and with family in Paris, here's hoping we do not have to wait another 16 years until a further collection of his writings (and hopefully more recent stuff especially) is issued as a follow up to his earlier "The Dark Stuff" anthology.

Back in the 70s, the NME was the epitome of cool with the most cutting edge writers who provided the most incisive social commentaries on what was probably one of the most diverse musical decades. Nick Kent was one of these young blades and at the time, was a major source of irritation to me. In particular, some of his barbed comments about Queen were guaranteed to set me off in a bout of teenaged high dudgeon.However, he was articulate, intriguing and unpredictable, and this excellent memoir provides an extraordinary guide to the Zeitgeist. The music industry with all its excesses eventually consumed him in the most disturbing fashion and his descent into heroin hell is extremely painful reading. However, the book is full of flashing insights into some of the major players, his brilliant analysis of John Lennon being of the many highlights.But Nick Kent still remains a huge paradox. How could of the most iconic music writers of that decade end up being one of its most celebrated victims? For that reason alone, Apathy for the Devil is a compulsive read and thank goodness he has lived to tell the tale.

Enjoyable speedy read. I read this on holiday and it was perfect - being described as "a beach read" is a bit damning in faint praise but there you go. I agree with other reviews here that Nick Kent surpisingly veers into cringey cliches but at least he never gets pretentious. He also favours repeating the use of several words I was not familiar with like "glomming". But his use of the word "diaper" instead of nappy probably annoyed me the most! (Obv to appease his US readership). Its again one of those tales of a druggie's redemption; Junkie a***hole comes cleans and realises he was a c**t to many - see also Boy George, Danny Sugarman etc. So, its not original but flows well. Tales of Led Zep stand out most and his admiration of Bowie is spot on. I am surprised he can remember much though, the state he was in. Bitterness enters when he is 'rejected' by the punk fraternity and he I thought he unfairly laid into Jimmy Pursey who I think was much misunderstood at the time. The ending was a little hurried although I think he mentions he had another book in him, and the stuff about his father dying was moving. However his "seen the light" moment with the Smiths was a bit comical (esp when you remember he constantly ignored fan-boy Morrissey in the early days). Anyway - worth the read but wish there had been some photos!Miss.P.