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As years go by, fan just gets worn down
By Alan Light |
April 5, 2009, Sunday
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Print Edition
Print Edition
AS a kid in Brooklyn, Bill German became obsessed with the Rolling Stones. He doesn't offer much explanation why this happened -- by the second page of "Under Their Thumb," he's already wearing a belt buckle with the band's tongue logo to his Hebrew day school - but being a true fan doesn't require logic or reason. It just happens, an irresistible force.
In 1978, the 16-year-old German started sneaking into the mimeograph room at his high school to print the first copies of "Beggars Banquet," a newsletter devoted to the Stones.
He published it for the next 17 years before finally letting go - or at least letting go enough to get some perspective and write this affable account of chasing the world's biggest rock band because there was nothing else he wanted to do.
After German thrust a copy of his "fanzine" into Ron Wood's hands outside an album release party, the Stones took a liking to him. As Mick Jagger said, "this kid knows what we're doing before we do."
They began to encourage, or at least tolerate, his presence, if only because he usually found a way to get into any Stones-related event on his own. German followed the group around the world, staying in YMCAs or crashing on subscribers' floors before scrambling off to pursue "Their Satanic Majesties" at some luxurious hotel.
He ghostwrote the text for a book of Wood's art, and was offered (and turned down) the chance for "Beggar's Banquet" to serve as the official publication of the Rolling Stones fan club. What he learned, though, is that there is a price for entering "a world where everyone you meet is judging your worth by your proximity to the band."
Miraculously, German retained most of his innocence - when a party for Keith Richards' solo debut fell on Rosh Hashana, he showed up in his synagogue clothes, and he never went near the easily available cocaine. But his fantasy of rock 'n' roll rebellion was eventually shattered. "As a fan," German confesses, "it depressed me to learn how many decisions ... were determined not by artistic inspiration but by lawyers and accountants."
The Stones come off more or less as you'd expect: Jagger is mercurial and imperious; Richards is down-to-earth, wild and soulful; Wood, still slightly insecure as the "new kid" in the band, compensates by being the most social; and Charlie Watts is so private and detached that he proved constantly elusive.
The book offers memorable details from the inner sanctum: watching a rehearsal session degenerate into a flatulence contest between Richards and Wood or witnessing the band members disassembling their Rock and Roll Hall of Fame trophies and start whizzing the pieces at one another immediately after the induction ceremony.
Despite such anecdotes, though, this book is really about being a fan. It's a story of retaining faith, of keeping a flame burning through bad records and band squabbles and even through discovering that your heroes aren't Golden Gods, but actual people.
It also documents a bygone age, before celebrity Websites, when a kid could spot Mick Jagger at a club, write a description, type it up in a home-stapled newsletter, mail it out a few weeks later and still break news.
German was finally worn down, not by a sense of disillusionment, but by simple exhaustion. "How could I have known in 1978 that the Stones were in the early stage of their career?" he writes. He now confronts a greater challenge - trying to start a real life at last.
In 1978, the 16-year-old German started sneaking into the mimeograph room at his high school to print the first copies of "Beggars Banquet," a newsletter devoted to the Stones.
He published it for the next 17 years before finally letting go - or at least letting go enough to get some perspective and write this affable account of chasing the world's biggest rock band because there was nothing else he wanted to do.
After German thrust a copy of his "fanzine" into Ron Wood's hands outside an album release party, the Stones took a liking to him. As Mick Jagger said, "this kid knows what we're doing before we do."
They began to encourage, or at least tolerate, his presence, if only because he usually found a way to get into any Stones-related event on his own. German followed the group around the world, staying in YMCAs or crashing on subscribers' floors before scrambling off to pursue "Their Satanic Majesties" at some luxurious hotel.
He ghostwrote the text for a book of Wood's art, and was offered (and turned down) the chance for "Beggar's Banquet" to serve as the official publication of the Rolling Stones fan club. What he learned, though, is that there is a price for entering "a world where everyone you meet is judging your worth by your proximity to the band."
Miraculously, German retained most of his innocence - when a party for Keith Richards' solo debut fell on Rosh Hashana, he showed up in his synagogue clothes, and he never went near the easily available cocaine. But his fantasy of rock 'n' roll rebellion was eventually shattered. "As a fan," German confesses, "it depressed me to learn how many decisions ... were determined not by artistic inspiration but by lawyers and accountants."
The Stones come off more or less as you'd expect: Jagger is mercurial and imperious; Richards is down-to-earth, wild and soulful; Wood, still slightly insecure as the "new kid" in the band, compensates by being the most social; and Charlie Watts is so private and detached that he proved constantly elusive.
The book offers memorable details from the inner sanctum: watching a rehearsal session degenerate into a flatulence contest between Richards and Wood or witnessing the band members disassembling their Rock and Roll Hall of Fame trophies and start whizzing the pieces at one another immediately after the induction ceremony.
Despite such anecdotes, though, this book is really about being a fan. It's a story of retaining faith, of keeping a flame burning through bad records and band squabbles and even through discovering that your heroes aren't Golden Gods, but actual people.
It also documents a bygone age, before celebrity Websites, when a kid could spot Mick Jagger at a club, write a description, type it up in a home-stapled newsletter, mail it out a few weeks later and still break news.
German was finally worn down, not by a sense of disillusionment, but by simple exhaustion. "How could I have known in 1978 that the Stones were in the early stage of their career?" he writes. He now confronts a greater challenge - trying to start a real life at last.
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