I hate alternative rock with a passion. I think it's fucking hideous. Back in 1991, when Nirvana's "Smells teen spirit" was on heavy rotation on just about every FM station, and Cobain's annoying voice and less than poor guitar playing was all over the fucking place, I thought it was a depressing time for music. All my mates were into this new grunge thing, while I was still stuck in the eighties and kept spinning Ratt's "Round and Round" and Winger's "Seventeen". Everybody knows how the story ended: Grunge imploded on itself in 1994 when Cobain committed suicide, while both Ratt and Winger are still touring to this day. HA! Ain't it fun?

To me "alternative rock" - just black metal and everything featuring a drum kit, an electric guitar, a bass and a full orchestra - is nothing but a joke, and not a funny one at that. I've always thought the word "alternative" was a synonym of "poor musicianship". Exhibit A: The White Stripes, and Sonic Youth.

Now "Bitch Magnet". Never listened to one of their songs, I didn't even know they existed until I stumbled upon this book. Of course I googled them and watched a couple of videos on youtube just out of curiosity. And I can tell one thing for sure: their drummer could play and had a great groove.

I bought the book because I love the title, "Your Band Sucks". And because I'm constantly looking for another The Dirt: Confessions of the World's Most Notorious Rock Band and another Fucked by Rock: The Unspeakable Confessions of Zodiac Mindwarp, not because I wanted to know more about Bitch Magnet.

Anyways, cutting to the chase: I don't alternative rock, I don't give a flying squirrel's chuff about Bitch Magnet, but Jon Fine can definitely write. He's a tad verbose, alright, but never boring, and some bits were honestly funny, 3.5 stars.

Next.19 s Lee Klein 830 915

Acquired and read this on the enthusiastic recommendation of a writer I recently met who'd also gone to Oberlin College and graduated in the spring before I arrived in the fall (and is also cited in the acknowledgments). I first heard of the author's band (Bitch Magnet) in the early '90s. The author had graduated two years before I arrived and his band's name was memorable and mentioned often enough. I didn't actually hear them until my senior year and, when I did, it wasn't my thing. Gastr del Sol's "The Serpentine Similar" blew me away around then but I wasn't all that into much music played by college kids at the time (it wasn't yet called "Indie," a term I at first associated with the Indy 500). In general I'm not really a fan of harder rock, other than Sabbath. I d the Dead Kennedys, The Repo Man Soundtrack, etc, when I was younger but never really loved that stuff, all of which at least had something of a sense of humor (eg, "TV Party"). So many humorless heavy bands at Oberlin but I was hearing for the first time Can and Fela and post-bop (Sun Ra, Mingus, Ornette Coleman, Coltrane Quartet), also old blues and Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan and Beefheart. I guess I was into expansive and often improvisational stuff, an interest that evolved out of a serious high-school obsession with the Dead and the JGB and then in the first year or two at college with a very weird and more or less unknown band called Phish that you could see at the time in rooms with a few hundred people at most for not much money, although by a year or two after graduation I primarily listened to and saw whenever possible Palace, Stereolab, Sea and Cake, Sun City Girls, Polvo, Red Red Meat/Califone, Tortoise, Sonic Youth, Jim O'Rourke, etc. But I'm ultimately writing about a book, not about bands I d. As such: this book rocks, with reservations. The language is intensely readable, consistently engaging, addictive. I looked forward to picking it up whenever possible and read more at night in bed than I'd intended. It excels at characterization of people and places, many I recognized from Oberlin and Brooklyn. I related so much to the excitement of putting together a band and playing parties in dorm lounges (my college band, which the author would've abhorred most ly rightly so in retrospect, played the campus co-op circuit -- Harkness a few times, Fairchild, Tank a few times, etc -- and many friends were in bands, one of which incessantly practiced a Pixies cover in the practice space beneath my bedroom in Fuller, where so many memorable jams occurred, sometimes with friends playing guitar or drums without having any idea how to play) and the challenges of trying to "make a life in art" after college. All the joys and sorrows seem so perfectly conveyed here. There's real old-fashioned poignancy related to the end of Bitch Magnet (author kicked out apparently for being sort of annoying), all the hopes crashing down with the dismantling of the most fundamental element of his identity. The best part for me was a few years after college when he's losing his hair, walking around the East Village wheatpasting posters for upcoming shows, feeling he's losing his edge, or his studied disheveled look is becoming too authentically hobo. I also really loved the later transition the author makes to a "mature" or at least more stable career, essential for someone of a certain age in a city New York (unless one has a serious trust fund). The arc of the sneering self-righteous ascetic rocker ultimately learning to dance in post-9/11 Brooklyn, his post-graduate education, the revelation of a network in the US and Europe supporting weird loud music, all that's great. At one point 3/4s through I wondered if I'd really give this five stars and then came to spot-on descriptions of the massive Rubulad party (in 2000, the original singer in Oneida, a great psych band with Oberlin members, sang at least a verse flat on his back with his head resting on the toe of my boot) and the always conversation-stimulating Kokie's in Williamsburg around the turn of the century -- and figured I'd now have to give this SIX STARS. But then we came to the last section about Bitch Magnet's reunion in 2012 . . . and the only urgency I sensed, its primary motivating energy, related to the author's ego, the book started to seem to be about status more than engaging and sufficiently self-critical nostalgia/analysis. In particular, there's a page describing interactions with corporate types at drinks or dinners who ask the name of his band and then laugh -- a page that made me not really root for the guy anymore, that made him seem insecure and lesser, all of which adds a layer of complexity to the book that maybe sort of improves it in a way by making "liking" it more difficult? The author generally started to seem anti-charismatic, which is a repellent sort of charisma that's hard to look away from, and that too is interesting, controlled dissonance? I watched some videos of the author's bands and some of a recent interview about the book. Bad idea: the voice and images in the text were replaced by the voice and images of the author. Toward the end I started to encounter more instances where I was hmm I'm not sure I'm really liking the author right now, particularly his impressions of Coptic Light drummer Kevin Shea, who pretty much drove that band, or occasional minor money-haggling moments and dismissive comments about other bands that came off as off-putting. It was also sort of "hard to unsee" the way in the few videos of performances the author raised his guitar and gestured in grand rock fashion -- in a way he describes well in the book in text but on film seem more about poses? Maybe if instead of pushing Bitch Magnet merch on everyone at their final reunion shows he decided to say fuck it and give it all away out of straightforward generosity and goodwill to everyone, even as a self-conscious investment in marketing Bitch Magnet reissues, he may have redeemed himself for me, but it came off poorly when he's already said his wife sold her company and they're comfortable, living in the same building as LCD Soundsystem's James Murphy -- and all that insider revelry toward the end at the LCD Soundsystem Terminal 5 shows in 2010 came with a whiff of insecurity, too, look everyone I've found my community, I'm one of them, I belong, I belong! Despite the supposed asceticism early on, there seemed to be a failure at times to restrain himself that maybe most obviously expresses itself in the most ly unnecessary and definitely oddly phrased subtitle? But, again, ultimately, overall: this was a tremendous read -- a great memoir for anyone interested in this era of music and its overtones will surely hang in the air and intermix with the experience of any sort of artist initially inspired and excited about creating something that feels their own, discovering a community of the -minded, and then winding up semi-disillusioned or just experienced (and weary) to such a degree that stability seems appealing as one ages. The last section probably should've been shortened and some unappealing observations could've been cut, but all in all a highly recommended memoir for anyone interested in the experience of musicians obsessed less with commercial success than making original music. 18 s Blake FrainaAuthor 1 book45

Back in the eighties, I was an avid follower of many obscure [and mostly] East Coast indie rock bands. Most of my favorites came out of scenes in Hoboken NJ, New Haven CT, Athens GA, Winston-Salem NC and Boston MA. I was the textbook music geek, on a first name basis with the clerks at my local independent record store, scouring the Goldmine magazine classifieds for choice bootlegs and avidly awaiting the next issue of Matter magazine (to which Bitch Magnet engineer Steve Albini was a frequent contributor) to get the latest info on bands The Individuals, Oh-OK, Beat Rodeo, Winter Hours and The Chris Stamey Group, to name but a few. Pretty much every group I loved and came out to support at every dive bar and grotty club within reasonable driving distance never made it beyond playing these small venues for the same group of hardcore fans. Some went a bit farther up the food chain than others – notably The Bongos and Miracle Legion – but ultimately all of them fell into relative obscurity. The music industry playing field is littered with rock and roll’s also rans. And so it was with great interest that I picked up Jon Fine’s Your Band Sucks, which chronicles his years on the indie band circuit long before the days of the internet and social media. While my taste in music is extremely different than his (and I know he’d sneer at every last one of those bands I named), I’m sure the experience of being in a working rock band, on the lowest rung of the music industry ladder, is basically the same for all musicians.

At close to fifty, Fine’s take on the whole experience is well-considered and pretty philosophical. However, reading the early chapters, his dogmatic attitude regarding what constitutes good music vs. [basically] everything else, is a little tough to handle. Does one really have to experience all music in their “crotch” for it to be enjoyable? That seems a bit narrow to me, but my husband, a musician with similar experiences to Fine’s and equally strident in his opinions, suggested maybe Fine was writing from the perspective of his nineteen year-old self, so I cut him some slack and read on. The story of Fine’s musical career, particularly with his first and most well-known band, Bitch Magnet makes for interesting reading. As a self-published author (with a book that sold only 250 copies) and the wife of a journeyman guitarist who ultimately settled for an office job, so much of his experience was easy to relate to. In the chapter, “Walter Mondale, George McGovern, and your Sh***y Band,” Fine writes, “You still have to act you believe, even though the evidence overwhelmingly indicates that no one else does. But that evidence gradually gnaws a hole in you.” It really speaks to the despair felt by any artist who just wants to get his work out there and feels that he’s only failed in so far as he was unable to reach the right people - the people who’ll get it.

The structure is interesting and for the most part makes for fun, easy reading. Roughly chronological, but not rigidly so, Fine is mostly interested in organizing the stories based on their relevance to a particular idea he’s trying to convey in each chapter (for example, “The Glory, the Madness and the Van,” hilariously focuses on the horrors of the typical band van) rather than its place on the timeline. Only occasionally did the jumping around confuse me. But I do think the book might be improved by a tighter focus (on Bitch Magnet alone) and, particularly toward the end, much less minutiae. I mean, does the pre-show dump really deserve a mention? Really? I think if Fine had left out some of the material about his subsequent bands and heavily edited the chapters chronicling the reunion tour, the book would be damn near perfect.

This is a really great read. Intelligent and introspective, brutally revealing at times and heartbreakingly relatable. If you’re interested in music, musicians or the music scene, this is worth checking out.10 s Scot39 4

This book was really disappointing. I was never a huge Bitch Magnet fan, but I did acknowledge their role in the pantheon of indie rock and their importance as a band and in shaping a certain sound. What made me want to read this book was to share the experience of living through indie rock birth and it's rise to success in those fertile years of the late 80's into the 90's and early 00's.

Jon Fine touches on this a bit and at some points it gives you a warm fuzzy feeling to remember these shared experiences of going to similar shows, shopping at the same record stores, reading the same zines and music mags and meeting the same folks either at shows, clubs, labels, or what have you. However the more this book dragged on the less i felt any sort of connection to the author. We shared a similar path, but not a similar mindset. This book reads a sulky, angry, bitter, supremely condescending teenager wrote it which makes it uncomfortable to say the least. No one gets out unscathed in this book. If you are mentioned in this book, you are most ly insulted at worst, or given a backhanded compliment at best. Even when doling out praise, whether it be for band or individual there is usually some subtle dig thrown in at the end to leave a bad taste in your mouth. I found that towards the end of the book i could barely get through it and wanted so badly to put it down and leave it unfinished. The hypocrisy runs pretty rampant through the book, with everyone seeming to be not worthy of the indie rock ideals he holds so dearly, and the indie rock life he lives so purely... until those same opportunities that he just derided others for participating in are presented to him which he gladly accepts but with plenty of justification as to why he does not betray indie rock supposedly everyone else did. There is also plenty of "everyone else just doesn't get it i do" judgement. He attends work parties and events where he fantasizes that he is this elite cultural island that no one else can possibly touch or understand but if he is there then there can always be some other undercover metalhead or punk rocker that isn't wearing the uniform on that particular night.
All in all this author comes across as extremely unhappy and ungrateful, and in the end tarnishes the beautiful memories that indie rock has given us all. Again, i read this book because i wanted to share in those memories with someone who traveled a similar path. I found that not only were we not the same, we had a name for guys this that we came across in our travels through the indie rock landscape; poser.10 s Steve155 19

In reading Jon Fine’s “Your Band Sucks,” I experienced something of an inverse bell curve of emotions that parallels Fine’s re-telling of his life, an act that reveals, among many things, his self-image. On one hand, he's a pitiful, painfully awkward, über-dork, decrying his lack of social skills and music success (something his fluid definitions never seem to consistently describe). On the other, he's snarky and self-righteous, going to great lengths to remind everyone that he is a rebel artist making unique and amazing music, only appreciated by those with the utmost degree of taste.

In Book One (of three), Fine paints a sympathetic and endearing portrait of his adolescent struggles and his later foray into music with Bitch Magnet, and how his personality got in the way of his own hard work and mild success. The second book started off brilliantly, with my favorite chapter called simply “What I ,” a piece of writing that could easily stand on its own as a universal, wistful manifesto to the innocence and joie de vivre of being in a band in your twenties. It should come as a pamphlet with every electric guitar sold. Yet, a few chapters later, I had to force myself to read forward, owing to burgeoning disgust with the author and his attitude; an angry, elitist, High Fidelity musical arrogance that seemed something I’d expect from a college freshman. There’s an unfortunate shortage of clarity about how lucky he’s been. In the larger picture, Jon Fine has lived the rock fantasy millions of people would kill for (including me), even if it wasn’t as huge as the author may have hoped. It’s this kind of simmering bitterness that makes it hard to root for Jon Fine while reading his rant-laden passages.

Just when I was at the peak of my derision, Fine begins to redeem himself in Book Three, devoted largely to Bitch Magnet’s reunion and tour. He begins to craft a satisfying crescendo with a combination of humility, humor, and geekiness; providing enough tech talk for a Guitar Player column while also providing rare insight into the unique, middle-aged perspective of life on the road in a mildly famous band. Sadly, it's short-lived. There is a moment near the very end when he places the boulder on his shoulder one last time in order to sneer one final f- you to the unwashed masses that don’t know what he knows. It’s so decidedly punky in the worst sense of the word that I find myself amazed that this guy is middle-aged.

I hate to break it to you, Jon, but we all have our specific niche areas and experiences in life and being overly sensitive and defensive when you think you’re being snubbed or laughed at is something you get over before you turn twenty. Furthermore, you were in a band that is more famous than the majority of others past or present that never had the fringe success you did, let alone a reunion tour. At long last, dude – just stop with the freaking attitude.

Sorry, but I had to get that off my chest. It has finally dawned on me that the bitch in Bitch Magnet is really the guitar player, a guy who can’t enjoy what he has until he’s alienated people who might just want to give his music a try. He doesn’t quite trash his memoir with attitude, but he sure comes close. It's a shame, too, because there's some good stuff in this book, but Fine's bitterness drags it down.9 s Jack Tripper439 289

I see a lot of people here didn't care for Fine's "holier than thou" hipster attitude, but that didn't detract from my enjoyment of this book at all. In fact, it added another layer of authenticity to the memoir, considering that seemingly everyone into indie (i.e. "college") rock at the time had a somewhat snobbish attitude (and not much has changed since).

This book really brought me back to the DIY, pre-internet days of fanzines and MTV, when if you wanted to check out a new band that wasn't pushed on the radio and MTV, you had to either shell out $15 for the CD, or just go out and see them live for half the price. Fine's humorous, philosophy-laden stories of life on the road were great, and made me nostalgic for those bygone days of hanging out in record stores and going to shows, even if I was a little too young to fully appreciate the scene at the time.

Recommended for fans of 80s and 90s underground rock, and for those who would to vicariously experience life as a struggling musician in the 80s.

3.5 Starsbiography-memoir music nonfiction6 s Kim G239 42

What an insufferable shithead. 20155 s Nick244

This book would make a decent companion piece to Azerrad's "Our Band Could Be Your Life". Fine talks about familiar Gen X post-punk experiences: the comfortable middle class Seventies upbringing, the outsider feeling, the dorm band, the gig where nobody shows up, helping to start a band where you were the worst but most enthusiastic musician, the flyers, the college radio, the 'zines, the word of mouth, the regionalisms, the scenes. Interesting to relive this stuff as my own son goes through the process of discovering his musical voice.

Fine captures some things really well, although he could be faulted for them, too: he's got a doctrinaire approach that condemns a lot of acts and styles, indy or not - too pop, too "genre", too baroque, too twee, too entertaining, too literary, too cute, too dynamic, too quiet. But then again this dovetails pretty well with the strident opinions a lot of indy mavens had starting back then. Being dogmatic about obscure bands is an industry. He says at one point that he doesn't classic rock; at other points it's clear that, a lot of Seventies kids who later became indy/postpunk nerds, he was totally into Rush and King Crimson. It makes sense, if you listen to Bitch Magnet's math rock-ish music (I Rush and King Crimson too). But I can't help thinking he's being disingenuous, or maybe posing at being musically limited for punk-rock effect.

In an era when every hipster baby has a Ramones onesie and when I fully expect to hear say, a Husker Du song being used to sell cars, I applaud Fine for writing and articulating why this stuff is more than just a commodity. It still freaking matters. On the other hand, dismissing a whole lot of college radio musicians for sounding , well, college students is annoying. And god help you if you're the Pixies, or a Johnny Thunders or Jonathan Richman acolyte.

Since the most best parts of the book deal with the pre-internet era, it was interesting to be reminded of how regionalisms came into play then. I was from the West Coast and a lot of the Chicago/Midwestern bands Fine s were barely on my radar (and un Fine, I ditched indy/alternative rock circa '93 or '94 and went into a completely different musical direction for ten years or so.)

This is a very readable book. The part about the mid-life post-punk band reunion was a little draggy, but at least Fine was realistic about the economic good fortune that enabled it, and his indy life in general, to happen. He does a good job of describing the touring and gigging routine, and some bits are laugh out loud hilarious in that juvenile way that was a total blast from the past.music4 s Connor68

There was a lot in this book that rubbed me the wrong way: the author's willingness to throw shade on so many bands and artists; his constant derision of "leftydom" while being unable or unwilling to interrogate the larger social circumstances around the kind of music (largely male, white) that his bands arose in (I suspect his sense of Bitch Magnet as a group of outsiders make him feel somewhat justified in his approach here); his nonchalance at making such claims as "all those years I spent chasing sallow [sic] art chicks who hid behind long dyed hair and guitars and basses" as though female musicians only get to hide behind music, not express themselves through it; the books final-third descent into heavy nostalgia which kind of derails whatever thesis it seemed to be heading towards. I have an ever fluctuating conceptual relationship with strong opinions and those who are able to express them, at times admiring, at others dismissive of the charade and the inevitable elision of consideration that expressing a strong opinion means.

Despite all the above I did genuinely (mostly) enjoy the process of reading Your Band Sucks. Fine has a very easy writing style. I d his sense of observation, his depiction of certain quiet moments, his descriptions of why he s the kind of total, visceral music that he does and how he and others fell into it. I enjoyed his insertion of the perspectives of other musicians. I enjoyed some of his depictions of touring. And now I have a list of old bands that I feel I should hear, at least once. 3 s Steve430 5

Disclaimer: I received this book as part of GoodReads First Reads program.

This book is a memoir by the guitarist of the band Bitch Magnet, among others, relating his experiences growing up wanting to be a musician, putting together his first bands, going to concerts, scouring record stores for new music, finally putting together a somewhat successful band and touring, retiring and reforming the band temporarily for a reunion tour and cd reissue. I played in bands and eked a living from it when I was in my 20s, and even though I'm a generation older than Jon Fine, and was nowhere near as successful, everything in this book rings true. It brought back many memories of playing in empty rooms or rooms with people that didn't really want to hear or care what you were playing. It also reminded me the good times of bonding with band mates and other musicians, riding to gigs in the van, playing a show where everything falls into place, and many other wonderful experiences. Just as the author has a hard time walking away from the last show of the reunion tour, I had a hard time putting down this book. Being 10 years older than the author, I don't know his band, or most of the bands he talks about, but I'm sure any fan of the band will love this book. Even not being part of his generation, I totally loved the book and would recommend it with the highest praise.first-reads3 s Eric164 67

The narrative was entertaining, so I am giving it 4 stars. It's about how I imagined the life of an indie band on the road.

BTW, the first part of the title refers to a Song of the same name. It's not a book about "My Band" is better than "Your Band", the title is a play on this old insult.

But the book does not really succeed in addressing the premise of the 2nd part of the title.
(What I saw at Indie Rock's Failed Revolution ). I'm not sure what this revolution would look and only a small bit of the book covered the movement. It's revolution with many different leasders. And once you got successful, you aren't in the revolution. The author did give up that as a career and reunited 21 years later. So he did witness an abandoned effort, albiet a pretty glorious effort. 2015_books_read3 s Raegan 611 29

-Disclaimer: I won this book for free through goodreads giveaways in exchange for an honest review.-

As it is being this is a memoir, I think it is important to the author. Since this is his story told in his point of view.
I did not the authors attitude at all. Some people take fame well and stay who they are but he didn't. He was rude,arrogant, and ungrateful for what he had. Fame and power hungry with anger issues. Because of that I didn't the book.first-reads-won-from-giveaway read-in-20153 s Annie197 5

There was so much to about this book. So much of it was smart and quotable, in fact, I'm sure my patient partner is relieved that I'm done with it so I can stop reading parts of it out loud. It confirmed things I suspected about indie bands, and while it was sometimes (gratuitously, perversely) TMI, I enjoyed the ride. Consider that I'm also a willing audience, I went to the same school as these folks and thought Sooyoung in particular was pretty darn wonderful. It's probable that I enjoyed a voyeuristic trip down memory lane, thrilled to be reading about a time when I was young and brave. While some of Mr. Fine's choices were roads I'd never have taken, I appreciate getting to read what he thought of them. ly I'm also validated that he concludes that settling down with a family and a stable job isn't such a raw deal.2 s Nabine21 2

I was having mixed emotions while reading this book but ultimately ended up liking it very much. For a while I was impatient with jon fine's "indier-than-thou" bullshit but in the end he does come to realize that it was an idiotic attitude to have and I feel I was on that journey of realization with him. I loved how he was able to reunite with his old bandmates and get their last hurrah--talk about a middle-aged fantasy come true! He lived the dream and grew old enough to write about it and have perspective on it. Docking a star for talking shit about the Pixies; I guess he still thinks he's too cool for school for some great bands, but his loss. This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.Show full review2 s Tuck2,245 234

a good book looking back at indie music and outsider life in 80's and 90's up through today. well written, and typical of the people, attitudes, successes and failures.music-and-other-700-s2 s Peter O'Connor85

It's hard not to love this prickly, unapologetic survivor. As guitarist for the band, Bitch Magnet among others, Fine enjoyed modest success with the band and embraced the DIY ethic of what is ly the last great rock revolution. Both self-effacing and at times very funny in his scorn for what music has become, he recounts the no-prisoners attitude and the relentless battle to be heard that so typified the indie rock scene in the early nineties. The misfit years that saw the formation of the band are engaging and bristle with the attitude of the era while the later part of the book that tells of the unly reunion tour are heartwarming and contains a purity that is to be admired and envied. There are no private jets, coke-fuelled after parties or dates with supermodels in sight but, for all the right reasons, Your Band Sucks is about as rock and roll as it gets.1 Brian Kenny1 review1 follower

The first 3/4 of the book was an easy 5 star. Very well written and mostly interesting account of a music scene that could only exist for a brief window of time. But the last part following the band's reunion should have been trimmed down. It went on too long with tedious accounts of every show on the band's tour and, perhaps the band at that point, the last chapters didn't add much to what had already been accomplished.1 Phillip Johnson35 1 follower

Fun book! Jon is clearly a bit of a twat but his passion and genuine love for music and his people shines through anyhow. My band does NOT suck though, you'll see, you'll all see,1 Jack Tomascak38 18

Totally self-indulgent, crammed with hyperbole, and yet highly readable. Bro-y "you should have been there" anecdotes mixed in with a refreshingly sympathetic point of view, not as cynical as the title would have you think.
Fine's core band Bitch Magnet (who really do kick ass) was the first project of Sooyoung Park who went on to form Seam, which is ly my favorite band of all time. I'm not all that interested in him as a person but there's an extra star added here for the "juicy backstage details" about this dude I never asked for, but can't help accepting.1 Rob39 1 follower

A difficult review to write as I was raised to believe "if you have nothing good to say, say nothing."

Previous outline the good/bad of this book so this is just my highly personal take: it gets two stars for excellent writing and bringing back a lot of good memories I had living a very similar upbringing / experience / growth into adulthood. Un the author, one of the most over-opinionated and possibly least empathic and introspective I've ever read, almost all my experiences in the "scene" were positive and are the source of many fond memories.

The book reads a Greek tragedy. You wait for the hero (author), full of hubris and arrogance as he's tossed on the winds of Fate and tilts at windmills in defiance of the Gods, to reach a point of self-realization and personal growth, that "Aha!" moment much preferential to death. There's hints of the possibility but they're so riddled with negativity, self-justification, twisted history and mopey "blame everyone and anything other than oneself" excuses that it was impossible not to be disappointed.

An example that covers my experience with the book: the author claims (too many times, paraphrased) that "being in a band doesn't get you laid" without ever considering the problem might have been his attitude and personality, although I give credit for the honesty with which it was shared.

Perhaps I've turned into a hippy in my older age? I had to read this in small chunks because I found it unfailingly ruined my mood and quashed the overly wonderful feelings I have on the subject matter. An interesting read, but certainly not an enlightening nor uplifting one.2 s Melanie61 2

I got about halfway through this and couldn't finish it. And it's a shame really, because the first half of the book was actually quite interesting and engaging. A chapter or two before I DNF'd, I think, is where it gets increasingly dull. After a while, the snarky, slightly bitter, and self depreciating writing style gets old, and to be fair, the myriad of stories about how unsanitary and unhygienic white boys in bands are gets tiring. No more pee in bottles. No more random hook ups with boring basic groupies. No more barely concealed disdain for nearly everyone in the scene and some not even.

If you can get through 350 pages of someone's slightly resentful retelling of their musical career, go ahead and give it a go. You might actually it.discarded memoirs-biography-autobio music ...more1 Rory CostelloAuthor 21 books16

And here I thought I was an indie-rock geek. Jon Fine takes that warped love of obscure old vinyl and zines and rundown venues in dodgy neighborhoods to a realm I never imagined. There's a lot of good writing and cool description of music and scenes...but Fine himself is pretty difficult to take. He can be very snarky and petty, which is amusing sometimes but unfunny at others. It's easy to imagine how his overbearing behavior got him booted by his bandmates. Yet as much as he professes to have grown up, there's an underlying sense of being aggrieved that doesn't sit well. Fine laps up the adulation of his splinter group of fans but constantly moans about the pain and difficulty of the path he chose for himself. The heart bleeds.1 Laura445 5

Great book. If you were part of the indie-post-rock scene of the late 1990's this book is for you. This was a well-paced, entertaining read. As the title suggests, it is really quite snarky, but it is also genuinely informative, surprisingly sympathetic to the genre as a whole, and it does provide some interesting insights. Overall, this was a fun, intriguing book! If indie rock is something you are interested in, you will definitely be entertained.read-first-reads1 Dave534 8

the past is never entirely past:

It’s thrilling to bond with Jon Fine and hear his stories of youth and young man hood, as he plays guitar, tours and records for his post-hardcore band Bitch Magnet. Nostalgic in all the right places, chock full of edgy road warrior tales, & light on inside jokes that no one gets. Fine is on to something greater: Reminding me how much the music mattered, even if the audience was limited and the rewards were slight.
1 Micah L.59 Want to read

I CAN'T BELIEVE I FOUND IT! YES!!!!
Caps, for expressive reasons.
After reading a few articles and such(such being books that mentioned this book) I never actually believed it was a book, but here it is! In all its black and white loveliness. Much happiness right now. 1 Tim255 2

This book sucks.1 Aharon572 21

This is an invaluable aid if you are deciding whether to join a band of which Jon Fine is a member. 1 Niklas PivicAuthor 3 books69

This is a book written by Jon Fine, where he is the protagonist. Hell, this is his life, as a musician, joining bands, travelling the world, recording, suffering, et cetera. To me, Fine comes across almost the Jack Black character in the filmed version of "High Fidelity", a bit ADHD, very high-strung and obviously dedicated to his shit, especially where his passions lay.

I also love the fact that he often takes his own shit, so to speak, when writing this book. By this I mean that he's almost driven to the point of denigrating his own choices and options, but mostly, he seems straight forward and honest, even though I have no idea whether that's the truth.

However, we do smell our own.

This music was unafraid to color outside the lines unimaginative people thought defined what was acceptable in rock music. Because there were so many things you could do with rock music, once you started ignoring all the rules: What if a song had only one part? What if a song had only one chord? Why do we need choruses? Why not write songs where no parts repeat? What if we never play in 4/4 again? What if we distorted the bass and made it the lead instrument? Why do we need vocals? Everyone’s playing really fast, so why don’t we play really slow? I thought this music was the most important thing in the world. I probably would have died for it.

I mostly how he writes in a seemingly stream-of-consciousness way, at times pointing out little thoughts inside parentheses, while detailing how near-impossible it was to get hold of music that said something to him, child of the late 1980s as he were:

I mean, if I’d grown up in an earlier era, maybe I could sing some paean to radio, the magic appliance through which you received secret transmissions from your true home planet, the best friend with whom you huddled in the dark, etc., but good God was radio awful in the eighties. Tears for Fears. Debbie Gibson. Billy Idol. George Thorogood. Genesis, after Peter Gabriel left, and Phil Collins’s entire solo career. Corey Hart, the poor man’s Bryan Adams in new wave sunglasses, while Bryan Adams was a poor man’s John Cougar Mellencamp, as if just being John Cougar Mellencamp weren’t brutal enough. Things were so bad we tried to get excited about John Fogerty’s first album in ten years, even though any chemistry textbook was more exciting and contained no writing as horrendous as the lyrics to “Centerfield.” Survivor. Fucking Starship. Journey played on an endless loop, and no one acted it was funny or weird. Howard Jones had a huge hit with “Things Can Only Get Better,” and no one called him out for lying. During one surpassingly strange fifteen or eighteen months, the ghastly and bouncy Men at Work was the biggest band in the world. Even the “quality” rock bands—those adored by critical consensus, Bruce Springsteen and U2—were as wearying as algebra. Dog-faced with sincerity. Groaning with sanctimony. Their endless, applause-seeking urge to do the right thing. The great secret history of music, the stuff with some substance to it—Stooges, Suicide, Leonard Cohen, Can and Guru Guru and NEU! and the entirety of krautrock, Funkadelic, Blue Cheer, Albert Ayler, Magma, Wire, King Crimson, Joy Division, all the great mutant offshoots of disco, punk, hardcore, and psych—was so far out of reach in my suburb it might as well have been buried on Mars. Before breaking up in 1983, Mission of Burma had been desperately setting off signal flares up in Boston, where they practically invented the template for brainy and aggressive underground bands that’s still followed today: unusual song structures; melodic and powerful bass; distorted guitar serving more as sonic sculpture than mere notes and chords; relentless off-center drumming. But the local college radio playlists were still choked with synthy new wave and British imports, so, as with everything else going on with an entire founding generation of American punk rock, we had no way of knowing. [...] Sonic Youth lived and practiced thirty-five miles from my high school. They’d released two EPs and a full-length album by the end of my junior year, but no one around me had any idea.

At times, Fine writes of human stuff that I have seen little proof of, where other musicians have taken pen to paper:

I was learning that the bond between the bullied and the bully is strikingly intimate: odd, deeply sexual, confusing.

...and:

There’s a sheer sexual power when you fill a huge room with glorious, massive noise, playing through a guitar rig that behaves exactly as you want it. There’s a magical feeling when you believe—no, when you know—you can wave your hands or a guitar at the amp and the electrons inside instantly respond. Even after all these years it’s still the closest feeling to God that I know. And every time I got the tiniest taste of it, I understood why so many willingly ruin their lives for it.

Band names, playing music, writing songs, everything was completely new and nobody knew how to do it, except they had to:

Mr. Epp and the Calculations was another poster band, formed by a teenage Mark Arm in 1980, years before Green River and Mudhoney. Since they were, you know, in a band, Arm and another member split the cost of a cheap pawnshop guitar. “We didn’t know how to tune it,” Arm admitted and then corrected himself: “We didn’t know what tuning was.”

Speaking of musts:

Lou Barlow, famously and abruptly booted from Dinosaur Jr. in 1989, described that situation this: “I was kicked out of the band because they didn’t me.” But his reaction was “Who gives a shit whether you me or not? The music we play—that’s the most important thing.”

His most known band, Bitch Magnet, were engineered by Steve Albini:

(An engineer recorded your band. A producer rewrote your songs and told you what to play. We learned the distinction after pissing off Albini by giving him a producer credit on the first pressing of Star Booty.)

What adds supreme distinction to this book, is Fine's own voice. Partly, it's also what makes the book fail, in my eyes, where other books, e.g. Nick Soulsby's "I Found My Friends: The Oral History of Nirvana", is much more polished, but lacks the fervent first-person view. And the word is fervent.

Some people want a song to speak to them. I wanted to disappear into the sound. I know, I know, I’m supposed to say that you can’t crescendo at 125 decibels all the time, and there’s supposed to be that blend of light and shade, as Jimmy Page famously wanted for Led Zeppelin. But screw that. Because some of my favorite records, Minor Threat’s first 7?" or Slayer’s Reign in Blood or Prong’s Primitive Origins, do nothing but amp up every moment to the absolute max.

What I feel Fine has going for him, is the ability to not stop. It's not an inability to stop, mind you. What makes me feel this book should have been more reined-in is also what makes it carry an animus of its own, Fine's style. I how he describes ATP, endless touring, gripes and wins, how Bitch Magnet reunites much "Sugarman", which he plays over quickly (noting how that documentary, for sob-story value, skips the part where Rodriguez is actually famed elsewhere than in South Africa, before the documentary upped his artistic legend), before descending into old age and a tale of how touring and playing live suited him at the time of the reunion.

All in all, this book is a rollercoaster of sorts; you get bored at times, you feel some bitterness itch at you, but mostly, it's anecdote-and-story-packed, in a good way, told by a personal voce who does not seem to edit out too much. It's an intoxicating, fun, tragic and most of all human view of our existence, what makes us tick, what makes us hate, be passionate and love, all at the same time. And be bored, of course. But you won't get bored from this book.1970s 1980s 1990s ...more Stagger Lee170 4

Your Band Sucks by Jon Fine: in which the Bitch Magnet (mostly) guitarist writes almost an American nineties companion piece to Joe Thompson 's book but despite some passages showing real delight in being in BM etc, definitely left you feeling he's a bit of a dick (some of which he gamely admits to). But the community and kinship and optimism of Joe's book is often replaced by a bunch of pass agg twats. And stories of struggling to sell merch on a reunion tour when your wife sold her tech company for $23 million don't invite much jeopardy. But he's good on the grimy minutiae of touring and why that period was so important, collects some excellent anecdotes and his business journalist insight makes for some interesting reading. And Bitch Magnet were fucking great.2020 arts-culture biography ...more Tiny Red Dragons Radio19 1 follower

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