Sick On You
The Disastrous Story of The Hollywood Brats, the Greatest Band You've Never Heard Of
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- ¥1,300
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- ¥1,300
発行者による作品情報
MOJO magazine’s 2015 Book of the Year, the outrageous true story of the Hollywood Brats—the greatest punk band you've never heard of—brilliantly told by founding member Andrew Matheson
With only a guitar, a tatty copy of the Melody Maker, and his template for the perfect band, Andrew Matheson set out, in 1971, to make music history. His band, the Hollywood Brats, were pre-punk prophets—uncompromising, ultrathin, wild, and untamable. Thrown into the crazy world of the 1970s London music scene, the Brats recorded one genius-but-ignored album and ultimately fell foul of the crooks who ran a music industry that just wasn't quite ready for the punk revolution. Directly inspiring Malcolm McLaren, the Sex Pistols, and the Clash, the Hollywood Brats imploded too soon to share in the glory. Sick On You is a startling, funny, and incredibly entertaining period memoir about never quite achieving success despite flying so close to greatness.
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
Matheson's memoir of the Hollywood Brats, a 1970s British glam band, is an impeccably grubby recollection of trying to change the course of musical history while living in squalor, nourished only by rock-solid self-belief, reused tea bags, and stolen groceries. Brats lead singer and songwriter Matheson accesses his teenage rock-star braggadocio to chart the implosion of the prepunk pioneers he led through hysterical highs and not infrequent lows. The highs include a weekend at Cliff Richard's country retreat; gigs in the presence of Keith Moon, Jeff Beck, Bryan Ferry, and Rod Stewart; and venues full of sweaty patrons dancing and chanting the band's moniker. The highest point may be getting a record deal with Immediate Records while living in a rat-infested squat. The lows include getting arrested and then being ridiculed by a cop for having just a few pennies and a lipstick in their collective pockets, and setting the famous Regent Sounds Studio on fire. Matheson is unrepentant, which elevates the memoir from a dusty, forgotten history. Like a two-minute punk song, the Brats were over all too soon an arresting memory to a handful of true believers but less than a footnote in any music history written by its victors. The raw, well-paced tale is delivered with great humor. Spending a few hours in Matheson's company is akin to catching up with a shambolic friend from ones university days readers will be enthralled, in stitches, and horrified.
