CREEMEDIA

CREEMEDIA

"Adult Books I Don't Understand..."

WALK ON GLASS by Lisa Robinson (Newmarket)

Bill Holdship

Maybe we've been fooling ourselves all along if we ever believed that this whole rock thing ever amounted to much more than just another slick form of entertainment and show business—just a seedier (tho not by much) version of the Hollywood glamor/dream factory of a previous era. Superstars like Mick Jagger and Rod Stewart represent the modern equivalent of a glamorous show biz aristocracy, and, as Lester Bangs once wrote in these pages, the typical rock fan is "just like all them broads with the movie mags. What rock writing needs right now is not another Greil Marcus but a really good Rona Barrett."

Which brings us to Lisa Robinson, syndicated rock "gossip" columnist, radio personality, creator of the Eleganza fashion column which appeared in CREEM during the mid-'70s, and the author of a new novel, Walk On Glass. Robinson is the closest thing rock has to a Rona Barrett or Liz Smith, although her role as "rock's top insider" has always seemed more comparable to Shirley Eder, show biz columnist for the Knight-Ridder newspapers. Robinson's columns rarely reveal any outrageous scandals or skeletons hidden in a closet. She's always been more concerned with the "glamor" side of the music business—what someone was wearing, inoffensive facts about a star's personal life, etc.

Walk On Glass is being hyped as all the things Robinson couldn't print in her columns during the past 12 years, so it must be pretty hot . stuff, right? After all, she told the Hollywood Reporter: "I wanted it to be the kind of book that Jackie Susann might have written." Well, after reading the rock version of Valley Of The Dolls, all I can say is if the music business is really comprised of people this boring and one-dimensional, if s little wonder that popular music is in the terrible shape it's in.

Set in the mid-'70s, the novel is the story of Lindel James, an unknown singer who rises from the New York club scene to become an international rock superstar. As a main character, Lindel lacks a distinct personality , displaying none of the quirky or interesting traits inherent in most of rock's greatest performers, and it's hard to believe that such a bland person could become the hot item both critics and fans view her as in this book. During her climb, she falls in love and has an affair with Brian Davis, a British rock singer with the musical ethics of Joe Stirummer and the > sexual ethics {charisma?) of Mipk Jagger. And, yes, that composite reads as ludicrous as it sounds in theory.

Jeff Stein, Lindel's manager, is supposed to be an unscrupulous New York hustler and the closest thing the novel has to a reed "villain," but Stein actually seems to be something of a saint when compared to real-life manager/hustlers like Colonel Tom Parker or Mike Appel. The book's other characters are just there, and they don't do much, if anything, to advance what little plot there is. None of the characters reveal much emotional or psychological depth, and while we get a lot of details about what they wear and what type of wine, sex or hotel suite they prefer, there is no one in this book the reader ran really care about. In fact, when Lucy Walker, a jet-setting groupie, dies of a drug overdose (like most of the dramatic events, it's "told" rather than portrayed), the reader feels as little about the loss of a human life as the heartless characters in the book do.

As far as "scandals" are concerned, most of them are told as third person anecdotes, and there is nothing here that anyone who's followed the rock scene closely hasn't already heard or read elsewhere. In keeping with the Jackie Susann/"adult book" tradition, there are the obligatory "love" scenes, a semi-brutal fuck scene and even a lesbian incident, but, once again, these scenes just seem to be there with little purpose, and, especially in the latter case, do absolutely nothing to enhance or develop the story. There is nothing shocking or especially revealing in Walk On Glass, unless you're totally unaware that people in the record industry spend a lot of time sticking white powder up their noses. Nothing really happens in this book, except that one person (rather unbelievably) becomes a rock superstar, and that story's already been told better and more dramatically in several rock biographies.

Now, fair's fair, and I must admit there are some redeeming points to Walk On Glass. If the book has a central theme, it would have to be greed, and Robinson successfully portrays the greed on every level that has been instrumental in perverting and destroying what rock music originally seemed to be. Secondly, though hardly original, the novel includes one classic sentence that not only speaks to anyone who's had to deal with a hopeless love affair, but says something about modem rock fandom as well—"Very often the object of an obsession is not nearly as compelling as the obsession itself." Finally, I do believe that Robinson is at least one of "rock's top insiders," and, as such, a lot of the situations in the book are probably realistjc. On the other hand, Walk On Glass mainly deals with only two aspects of the music scene—the corporate monster that is the record business and the glitter/tinsel environment of jet-setting superstars. Pure Hollywood. Linda Ronstadt or Rod Stewart may feel comfortable in such an environment, but I find it hard to imagine, say, Bruce Springsteen, Elvis Costello or the members of X as a part of the world depicted in this book. As a result, it hardly gives a complete picture of the rock 'n' roll lifestyle.

Walk On Glass will undoubtedly appeal to a special audience, but I don't think that audience will include most rock fans. It's easy escapist reading in the vein of a television soap opera, and it may well capture the same people who bought books like Judith Kranlz's Princess Daisy (and, yes, Jackie Susann's Valley Of The Dolls) by the millions. On the other hand, when it comes to "trashy" adult novels, Tony Parsons recently fared somewhat better with his Platinum Logic. I remember skimming through some of my mom's Harold Robbins books for the "dirty parts" as a kid, and those books were always genuine trash, a legitimate aesthetic in its own right. Walk On Glass really isn't good trash, as it tries too hard not to offend anyone (with the possible exception of "serious" music writers whom the book attacks). If you're going to write an insider's expose of the rock 'n' roll world, let*s see some real trash. God knows there's enough dirt, grime and sleaze to be dug up. That's why, from a purely rock/trash aesthetic viewpoint, Russ Meyer's Beyond The Valley Of The Dolls film was by far a better story than Jackie Susann's original tale.

But, just between you and me, I seriously don't believe that sleaze is really the key. There have been numerous "rock novels" published over the years, but, with the possible exception of John Eskow's Smokestack Lightning, none have come remotely close to capturing what rock V roll is really all about. Perhaps someday a novelist will realize that rock 'n' roll involves •more than greedy bastards with straws up their nostrils or long-haired British assholes sticking dead fish up the orifices of 14-year-old groupies, and capture in words what it was—the magic—that made a lot of us fall in love with the power of four chords and pure passion in the first place.

Of course, maybe we've been fooling ourselves all along...