DRINKING MAKES YOUR HEART ACHE MORE THAN IT SHOULD – Mandy Beaumont

(www.mandybeaumont.com)

Mandy Beaumont’s new chapbook is stellar, splendid, magnificent and complex. Good. I have that out of way.

The poems are lyrical in style: highly personal and potently abstract. On the other hand, they also fit within a narrative structure. Each poem centres around the story of a nameless she that changes from poem to poem; the narrator carefully watches these people, tries to help them, connect, but is inevitably distanced by that metaphorical window, the text. She can but look in/on as these women live.

The stories mostly concern harmful or finishing relationships, but the blame is never lumped onto the woman, either for failing themselves or for failing to kick the abuser/user out the door. But, most importantly, the poems never fail to acknowledge and express the pleasure that these women experience, in amongst even the bad relationships and oblivious partners. In The Heat Of Heaven’s Wild, the protagonist luxuriates in the physical and mental ache after good sex – even when the partner is transient. She’s “very far away in thinking / that he can give her anything real.” Real here just refers to his physical presence; but the poem then goes on to question the importance of this lack. The narrator reminds the protagonist that “he’s given her thousands of Coleridge love heart lines / the image of him perfect in climax;” the protagonist realises that, even if he is gone for now, the “heart burning heat ardour for him” still riots through her days. It gives the status of reality to this transient relationship. Even when he’s gone, her pleasure remains real and tangible. The poem validates the pleasure this woman feels; it doesn’t turn her sexuality into a pathology because she doesn’t intend to marry the man.

Hope runs through these poems, even at their bleakest. The narrator, while unable to affect these women directly, still provides solidarity as a silent witness, if only by her understanding, care and sensitivity of portrayal. Indeed, the opening poem directly addresses the she’s of the text, saying that yes you “must bear” the “great weight of the moon,” the simple fact of their sex – in a world where that’s enough to endanger you; but there is also always the possibility of new “beginnings,” of power reclaimed, and pleasure grasped.

JEREMY THOMPSON

IT’S SO EASY (AND OTHER LIES) – Duff McKagan

(Orion)

Ex-Gunners/Velvet Revolver bassist gets all reflective

Duff McKagan is a token reformed rocker with a CV that reads like Bible to every longhair. It was him who got together the classic Guns N’ Roses line-up and remained the LA titans’ musical director until they turned into a bloated self-parody. Hell, his first name was even immortalised in The Simpsons as the omnipresent Duff beer (already boasting a beer-monster rep by the time GN’R took off, he agreed on a whim after being approached by Matt Groening’s people). How could he not have plenty of saucer-eye-inducing yarns?

In many ways, It’s So Easy paints a classic (rock) rags-to-riches story. While not quite as warts-and-all as Mötley Crüe’s The Dirt or Anthony Kiedis’s Scar Tissue, it still contains enough gritty/gross-out moments to keep the reader entertained. Growing up in a middle-class Seattle family beset by problems (McKagan’s parents divorced early), the young Duff quickly abandons school in favour of punk rock, playing bass in scores of local bands and generally “keeping it real”. By the time he hits 20, he realises there isn’t much to do in his recession/heroin-stricken hometown and heads south to LA; cue living in squalor, battling cockroaches at night, often starving, but rock & rolling – and partying – hard.

A skilled survivor, our hero is generous enough to share a couple signature recipes from his days as a restaurant cook before shifting into fifth gear when Appetite For Destruction breaks big. His account of the Gunners’ world domination puts as much focus on the loss of spark, inter-band rifts and Axl Rose’s notoriously volatile ego as on Slash’s, Steven Adler/Matt Sorum’s and his own worsening drug and alcohol habits. Having barely lasted a day without a drink or 20 since teenage years, McKagan goes sober following a near-fatal pancreas rupture in 1994. Upon devising a rigorous recovery program – first mountain biking, then martial arts – he puts his life back on track: finds love; has kids; begins studying finance at Seattle University sans high school certificate … and that’s where the book starts to get boring. Save for the mentions of Scott Weiland’s Velvet Revolver-era shenanigans, the rock & roll tales stop and we are instead regaled with assorted “happy Duff” testimonials. Nonetheless, there’s enough juicy stuff here for anyone who likes their scales pentatonic.

***½

DENIS SEMCHENKO

POWDERFINGER: FOOTPRINTS – Dino Scatena

(Hatchette)

Going behind the scenes at the ‘Finger Factory

Despite a 22-year history and at least a decade as one of the biggest bands in the country, Powderfinger always managed to maintain a reasonably controlled image. Internal feuding largely remained just that – internal  – and the band’s five members managed a modicum of privacy alongside their massive public exposure. Perhaps that’s why, as a fan of the band and someone who owns six of their seven studio albums (I didn’t buy Dream Days…), I was always going to want to read Dino Scatena’s book, and it’s exactly the ‘inside story’ that the cover promises.

The ‘finger are candid about their rehearsal room scuffles, drug and alcohol indulgences, and the question of ‘Why did they break up? And who was responsible?’ is clearly answered. Beyond the more sensationalist insights, Footprints spends a lot of time fleshing out the backstory to the band’s success; indeed, the first two thirds of the volume deal with the lead-up to the group’s breakthrough second album, Double Allergic, in 1996 (including how close Polydor came to dropping the act following the disappointing response to their debut, Parables For Wooden Ears). But Scatena does more than simply paint a portrait of the group; he also brings into focus the Brisbane music scene from which they emerged and some of their contemporaries.

This is achieved by going beyond merely interviewing the band. The making of Footprints saw interviews with friends, families, acts the ‘finger toured with, record label execs and a stint for Scatena on the band’s farewell tour. There is also an extensive collection of photos and posters, as well as an innovative barcode system that allows you to pull up video clips on your smartphone as you read. As a result, it feels like as complete a picture as one can build in 300-odd pages. For fans, this new level of access to the band is a real treat, but this is a book that even non-fans of Powderfinger could pick up for an easy and engaging read.

NILS HAY