Faithfull by Marianne Faithfull (w/ David Dalton)
Was reminiscing about this just recently; recommending it to my sister-in-law, saying that it was one of the great rock’n’roll reads actually. It found me at a formative time, I was at the peak of my Stones fandom and I was newly interested in all the characters – the walk-ons, peripherals, the muses.
But I was also interested in Faithfull – for her music. And for her story. So this story – as told by her – served two needs in me. More Stones info. And Marianne’s own tale. And it’s a harrowing read of addiction and maybe it was one of the first books I read about how heroin ruins a life.
Around the time of this book a single-CD compilation was released, same title. I loved (and still love) that album. It tells enough of the musical story – and I remember it being very much a part of my time reading this book, sat listening to the album at the same time.
I’ve read so many music bios since – and I’d read a fair few before this. But somehow this manages to be both a great read and total tabloid trash. All in one. Again, it serves two needs. Faithfull has great recall – which you might be curious about given the drugs. But hey. Truth is only ever subjective in a memoir.
What’s interesting about this story is that it’s basically riches to rags (by choice) to riches and then rags again (less by choice than punishment). And yet there’s still a redemptive arc. The fact she was still around to tell this tale – and around even after (the second memoir is not bad, though not as good and certainly not essential) – means it is a survivor’s tale; means it’s a redemption occurred.
And I reckon Faithfull can write. Or ghost-write perhaps. But there’s some great lines, some strong observations – pithy asides and putdowns, astute concepts. The great love of Mick Jagger’s life? Not Marianne. Not Bianca. Not Jerry. Or any of the groupies or other partners. No it’s Keef. Of course. And you heard it here first. Sexual tension drove that band and drove it nuts. She also calls John Lennon’s character out so perfectly, so shrewdly with just two words: “amusingly cruel”. That’s a prose poem right there.
Faithfull’s at-first charmed life sees her born into royalty and a life of literature, she ditches her first husband to hook up with Jagger and to play her role in the debauchery of the Stones at their worst (1966-1970). The Brian Jones years. The drugs in overflow. The mars bar story. The arrests. And the voodoo magic of music like We Love You, Midnight Rambler, Gimme Shelter, Sister Morphine…
The cute “Angel Doll” persona crafted for her – arriving on the back of a Jagger/Richards song they were ordered to write and give to Marianne (As Tears Go By) was something she shrugged off by plunging into drugs and booze. She never shook the sixties off – instead losing time and cells in Berlin, befriending heroin and giving up on nearly everything.
But then Broken English. The comeback. A bizarre and beguiling record, still. With one of the world’s greatest revenge songs.
Since this memoir – a quarter century and change ago – Faithfull has become a sort of female Tom Waits; cracked chanteuse. She returned to acting. She grew old with a type of grace she would once have resented. But here she documents several lifetimes in a two-decade purge.
I love this book.
I love the best of her work.
And this is one of the most harrowing-but-fun rock’n’roll reads.
Books That Blew My Mind is an occasional series here at Off The Tracks – thinking back on great books that I loved (and still love); books that found me at just the right time.
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Books That Blew My Mind is an occasional series here at Off The Tracks – thinking back on great books that I loved (and still love); books that found me at just the right time.