First off, an annoucement: moving the release date up to August 15th, most likely in St Louis ( then KC, Minn, Mad City, Chicago, Indy, and Cincy)… Nashville’s World Music Music Theater venue September 8th!
Dang. Darn. Damn it all to hell.
Here I thought at last was a self-written book, one so much in the voice of the ‘author’ that it must have been actually tapped out by Steven Tyler himself.
Now, I don’t know diddly about Aerosmith. Or should I say shit. I don’t know shit about fuck-all. That’s rock’n’roll. And G-harmonies colliding with fairy dust from the undersides of Steinways and long-legged, terrifying girls in tents on golf courses. Well I might know a little about some of that.
Then again, I’m only about a fifth of the way through Tyler’s grand new book.
I really like it. It’s cool in the way Steven Tyler is cool and compassionate on American Idol. I haven’t been a fan of the band, so I‘m not familiar with his personality: he’s funny and kind and has penchant for purling out strings of vaguely-connected words.
The book sounds like he wrote it, so that’s tribute to the writer. Tyler must have spoken much of the book into a tape recorder.
But it ain’t the same as hacking out the 400 pages yourself. I know; I did that—it’s a lot of work, especially the five rewrites: rewarding, but quite an effort.
I know Tyler is busy man with a family and lots of other things to attend to besides penning a tome. But I am disappointed—after the fact. I was expecting a ghost-written book and only dared to get my hopes up when I didn’t find the credits on my Kindle. Kindle hides info; it just jumps right into the body of the book. Ghost or co-writers don’t exactly get the credit they deserve either.
But, hell, that ain’t no big thang. I am enjoying the book. The early years of Keith Richards, Sammy Hagar, and Steven Tyler are the same basic years I went through, so there’s an overlap I relate to in all of these memoirs. Right now seems like a good time to go back and reminisce, doesn’t it?
These three books all were fronted by advances in the many millions of $’s. Mine? Not exactly! I wonder how my little book with no huge advance and no giant publisher with multi-corporate-media connects pushing it, will do? Will people see the number 867-5309 on the cover and be drawn back to their earlier lives? I hope so. That’s what it’s all about.
Meanwhile, let’s hear the tales of the olden days, oh hippie-rebel-gypsy-wildman Tyler. I love it!