Product Description

John Martyn is one of rock music's last real mavericks. Despite chronic addiction to alcohol and drugs, he produced a string of matchless albums. Loved by fans and critics, loathed by ex-wives and managers, he has survived the music business he despises for forty years. With contributions by Martyn, many of his lovers and over twenty musicians who know him well, this book documents his upbringing in Glasgow and rise through the Scottish and London folk scene of the 1960s. The book documents his many highs and lows, and his friendships with the great lost souls of British rock music - Nick Drake and Paul Koshoff.

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #46909 in Books
• Published on: 2008-05-15
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Paperback
• 246 pages

About the Author
John Neil Munro was born in Campbeltown and raised in Stornoway. He studied modern and economic history at Glasgow University then completed a postgraduate journalism course in Cardiff during the late 1980s. His previous publications include The Sensational Alex Harvey (Firefly Publishing, 2002).

Customer Reviews

Munro has set the bar high
A declaration of interest first of all: John Neil Munro is an old friend and colleague, so I was in any case disposed to like this book. That said, he didn't disappoint me.

Writing for "Scotland on Sunday" (Sept. 30, 2007), Munro explains that he decided to write the book after hearing conflicting reports about one of his musical heroes. The man responsible for some of the most romantic and mellow acoustic ballads, for classic albums such as "Solid Air" and "One World", apparently also had a darker side. So he set out to see "whether John Martyn was really a peace-loving good guy or was indeed something of a bampot."

The answer of course is he's a bit of both: Munro does a good of job of weaving together the twin threads of Martyn's remarkable musical career and the old rock-and-roll cliché of his self-destructive personal life. The book's great strength is that he has access to many of the key sources: not just Martyn himself but musical collaborators - and great musicians in their own right - such as Ralph McTell, Dave Pegg and the incomparable Danny Thompson.

Munro has also done his homework on key influences in Martyn's life and work, such as fellow musical prodigy and friend Nick Drake, who inspired "Solid Air". (The chapters on "lost souls" Drake and Paul Kossoff are sensitively handled.) And where he hasn't been able to interview important sources such as Beverley Martyn, thorough research ensures that her voice is heard.

Munro does a fair job sketching out Martyn's formative years in Scotland, though a few local references may escape some readers. He really gets into its stride when the young Martyn arrives in London. Munro does not pull his punches when it comes to assessing the limitations of some of Martyn's earlier work. But where the book really scores is in its detailed accounts of the making of the key albums: Solid Air, One World, Grace and Danger. As well as talking to the musicians involved, Munro puts the albums in the context of Martyn's personal life. And as well as offering his own assessments, he has taken the trouble to dig up some of the most perceptive reviews written at the time of their release.

I was interested, though perhaps not surprised, to discover that Martyn's slicker 1980s albums - when he put on a suit and went electric - are dismissed by many of the diehard fans hooked on his acoustic work. (Personally I love "Well Kept Secret" even if Martyn admits "to being so sozzled that he barely remembers anything about the recording".) But I would like to have read more about the merits or otherwise of Martyn's work from the 1990s onwards.

Martyn the man, as opposed the Martyn the musician, does not come out of the book terribly well. It is not just because of what some former friends, lovers and collaborators have to say. His own attempts to justify what has clearly on occasion been quite appalling behaviour are less than convincing. Martyn tells Munro how he doesn't suffer fools gladly. But one can't help thinking that the only reason so many people have suffered him is that hiding behind the bampot is a warmer, gentler man. And it is that gentler voice that comes through in a lot of his most beautiful work.

As Danny Thompson explains to Munro: "Someone who can write `You curl around me like a fern in the spring' - that's the man that is going to be missed, not the guy who is chucking beer all over you and poking you in the chest."

Reading between the lines
This isn't the definitive biography of Martyn, but it will have to do until one comes along.

I picked it up knowing that Martyn was an exceptionally gifted guitarist and songwriter, an alcoholic who consumed industrial quantities of booze and drugs, and (often as a result) an aggressive and perhaps unpleasant person to be around. And when I'd finished the book, I still didn't know much more than that.

This isn't necessarily Munro's fault; he's pretty open about saying who would (and wouldn't) be interviewed for the biography. But sometimes the lack of background personal detail is surprising. For instance, Martyn's five-year relationship with (Julianne) Daisy Flowers is dealt with in just two paragraphs (in which Flowers describes Martyn as 'unbearable', 'vicious' and 'violent'). Similarly, his marriage to Annie Furlong, which lasted nearly seven years, is again scarcely mentioned, except for a quote from Martyn in which she is summed up as 'permanently drunk' (Furlong's family maintain she only became an alcoholic after suffering years of abuse from Martyn).

And so we end up with a lopsided view of the man, in which his drunken antics on tour and on stage are the stuff of frequent and lengthy anecdotes, but the years of abuse which he meted out to his wives and partners is skated over or (sometimes) ignored altogether.

I would have liked to know more about his relationship with his children, too. Son Spenser is mentioned on page 96 (as a baby) and then again not until page 164, when he's 16 and playing with his father on stage! Presumably in the intervening years the two had some contact, and maybe Martyn was an adoring and supportive (absent) parent, but we're not told one way or the other.

Stylistically, the book is no great shakes. It's worthy but pedestrian, and rarely inspired. In fact, much of the book is taken up with long quotes from articles or interviewees, with Munro just providing the bridges. The albums are all represented, with an obligatory mention of outstanding tracks, the recording process, and some excerpts from critical reviews. All very useful if you want to make sure you're not missing anything essential from your collection, but it's only rarely that Munro conveys any unbridled enthusiam.

Authoritative. A must for all JM fans
It is clear that a lot of work and thought has gone into producing this biography. It would have been easy to have produced a superficial production based on all the various anecdotes and other published works.
John Neil Munro should be congratulated on the way in which he covers the good , the bad & the ugly sides of Martyn as well of course as the beautiful and fantastic music which has captivated so many for the last 40 years. The book is well produced in hardback and a most enjoyable read.
Maybe John Neil Munro should have a go at Davy Graham as his next subject?