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Grant & I: Inside and Outside the Go-Betweens
“In early ’77 I asked Grant if he’d form a band with me. ‘No,’ was his blunt reply.”
Grant McLennan didn’t want to be in a band. He couldn’t play an instrument; Charlie Chaplin was his hero du jour. However, when Robert Forster began weaving shades Hemingway, Genet, Chandler and Joyce into his lyrics, Grant was swayed and the 80s indie sensation, The Go-Betweens, was born. These friends would collaborate for three decades, until Grant’s tragic, premature death in 2006.
Beautifully written – like lyrics, like prose – Grant & I is a rock memoir akin to no other. Part ‘making of’, part music industry exposé, part buddy-book, this is a delicate and perceptive celebration of creative endeavour. With wit and candour Robert Forster pays tribute to a band who found huge success in the margins, who boldly pursued a creative vision, and whose beating heart was the band’s friendship.
Grant McLennan didn’t want to be in a band. He couldn’t play an instrument; Charlie Chaplin was his hero du jour. However, when Robert Forster began weaving shades Hemingway, Genet, Chandler and Joyce into his lyrics, Grant was swayed and the 80s indie sensation, The Go-Betweens, was born. These friends would collaborate for three decades, until Grant’s tragic, premature death in 2006.
Beautifully written – like lyrics, like prose – Grant & I is a rock memoir akin to no other. Part ‘making of’, part music industry exposé, part buddy-book, this is a delicate and perceptive celebration of creative endeavour. With wit and candour Robert Forster pays tribute to a band who found huge success in the margins, who boldly pursued a creative vision, and whose beating heart was the band’s friendship.
354 pages, Kindle Edition
First published August 24, 2016
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301 people want to read
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August 28, 2016
Written by the founder of the ultimate cult-band, you probably wouldn't approach this one if you weren't a fan--and Go-Betweens fans are rarely half-hearted in their devotion to the group. A casual reader, however, will find a tightly written account of life devoted to an often unrewarding art, the craft of songwriting, and the often distant and unspoken kinship that spurred it all.
Forster, with his foppish posturing and oblique lyrics, can seem a bit pretentious and self-important for some (read: literalists) to take. While this book confirms him as the clear-eyed strategist of the band, he's warmth for his musical compatriots shines through, as well as his regrets (the fumbled breakup of the 80s version of the band which send McLennan into a prolonged depression one of them). Even his little digs don't bite hard though; the tall guy is too much a true positivist and gentleman.
Which is not to say Forster is coy with his feelings here. Reserved is his nature, but the concern for McLennan in his last decade runs deep, as does his reflection on the momentous choices made throughout his near 40-year career. Lovers of the music will devour the passages on Forster and McLennan sharing their songs, as well as Forster's commentary on their legacy and his perception of their recorded output (as well as his thoughts on McLennan's solo years). But the big heart of the book is the beginning and final third when the formation and re-calibration of the brotherhood ignites the classic music, and the examination of the disparity of their later personal lives.
If you want a more detail-rich and objective read of the bands history, read in tandem with David Nichols' excellent biography, but this is the one that will inspire you to rediscover the music and move you just as much.
Forster, with his foppish posturing and oblique lyrics, can seem a bit pretentious and self-important for some (read: literalists) to take. While this book confirms him as the clear-eyed strategist of the band, he's warmth for his musical compatriots shines through, as well as his regrets (the fumbled breakup of the 80s version of the band which send McLennan into a prolonged depression one of them). Even his little digs don't bite hard though; the tall guy is too much a true positivist and gentleman.
Which is not to say Forster is coy with his feelings here. Reserved is his nature, but the concern for McLennan in his last decade runs deep, as does his reflection on the momentous choices made throughout his near 40-year career. Lovers of the music will devour the passages on Forster and McLennan sharing their songs, as well as Forster's commentary on their legacy and his perception of their recorded output (as well as his thoughts on McLennan's solo years). But the big heart of the book is the beginning and final third when the formation and re-calibration of the brotherhood ignites the classic music, and the examination of the disparity of their later personal lives.
If you want a more detail-rich and objective read of the bands history, read in tandem with David Nichols' excellent biography, but this is the one that will inspire you to rediscover the music and move you just as much.
October 9, 2016
I was always going to love this - Forster is a smart, engaging writer and The Go-Betweens are one of my all-time favourite bands. It didn't disappoint, carrying the reader through the late 1970s Brisbane scene, the whirlwind 80s and the revival of the band in the 2000s until Grant's untimely death. It's a moving tribute to McLennan and to the duo's shared decades (even if it inevitably sells Lindy Morrison a little short). I read it while listening to timely songs from their back catalog, which added to the atmosphere.
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April 29, 2024CRITIQUE:
The Go-Betweens and Me
When I returned to Bris Angeles at the end of 1979 (after five years at uni in Canberra), there were already well-established myths and legends surrounding the Go-Betweens. Everybody seemed to share the same opinions about the band and their music.
Initially, I had no reason to doubt these myths and legends (believing they were spontaneously generated by local fans), until I was taken to meet the band one weekend at their apartment near the Pink Palace in St Paul's Terrace. I had started writing about music for a magazine variously called "Unit", "Planet" and then "Backstage", all of which were edited by Graham Aisthorpe (soon, unfortunately, to be deceased). I had been introduced to Graham by David Pestorius, who also wrote for Graham's magazines and later became an avant-garde gallery owner and curator.
I can't remember the purpose of the meeting (I think it was just social), but it soon became clear that Graham and David would be the only ones who would be allowed to write about the Go-Betweens in Graham's magazines. This didn't worry me, because there were a lot of other Brisbane bands at the time, most of whom had remained in Bris Angeles (while the Go-Betweens had left in disgust, in search of better prospects and grander achievements) and now collectively constituted a Brisbane scene.
The Go-Betweens viewed Graham as their house critic, and could rely on him to represent and publish their image of themselves (as if he was their PR rep, which he effectively was).
David, on the other hand, though an acolyte, would forever promote his own sympathetic but misguided hypothesis that there was one "Brisbane Sound" (a la "the Boston Sound" or "the Dunedin Sound") and that that Sound was the Go-Betweens. (1)
Apart from the supposed singularity of the Sound, there was an element of truth in this proposition, because there already were, and subsequently were to be, many Go-Betweens copyists, usually comprised of young male uni (visual arts) students (e.g., Out of Nowhere, the Four Gods, Birds of Tin, Bix Pieces and Tinytown) and petite blonde girls who modelled themselves on Edie Sedgwick.
Not content with David's offering, the Go-Betweens would fabricate their own name for the sound of Bris Angeles, "That Striped Sunlight Sound", which they self-consciously modelled on Bob Dylan's "That Thin White Mercury Sound", even down to the word "that" in its title. More like "That Thin, Tinny, Under-Produced Sound", to paraphrase that Perfect Stranger, Mark Dadds.
If you worked in the media, the Go-Betweens regarded you in terms of your role in advancing their career. If you were a mere fan, you were expected to worship their music unreservedly, and buy into the myth of the Brisbane Sound.
My musical taste had been shaped in Canberra, where I became interested in new wave and post-punk music, rather than the initial surge of punk bands (like the Damned). Before I'd left Bris Angeles in 1975, I'd started to subscribe to Rolling Stone (which was banned here as a subversive magazine) (2), while in Canberra, my taste was shaped more by weekly issues of New Musical Express ("NME") (3) and an occasional copy of its rival, "Melody Maker". I also met Steve Kilbey (pre-The Church), who at the time was co-hosting "The Punk Show" with Chicka Watson on Radio 2XX.
The Ramones never really turned me on. I couldn't really get into their cartoonish presentation. (4) Having always been a Velvet Underground, Lou Reed and David Bowie fan, I was more into Patti Smith, Television, Jonathan Richman and Talking Heads. On the other side of the ditch, I also became obsessed with Elvis Costello, Buzzcocks, the Jam, the Clash, the Cure, Magazine, Wire, Echo and the Bunnymen, Gang of Four, and Siouxsie and the Banshees.
In the 70's and 80's, the English press wasn't just about promoting the contemporary music scene, it seemed to be the vehicle for serious cultural criticism, which appealed to me.
If I ever had anything in common with any of the Go-Betweens, it was this love of criticism, especially of the UK variety. You could tell from their interviews that they had consumed these magazines, and had fashioned the bands they read about into musical "influences", in the hope that they could get onto the tail end of their popularity and prosperity.
Over the years, I saw them trot out an ambitious list of musicians: The Monkees, Bob Dylan (what a juxtaposition, those two!), Creedence Clearwater Revival, Television, Orange Juice, the Smiths, all of whom you could subsequently detect in their music, as they concocted their sound. There was an earlier name-dropping list of writers in "Karen", a song about a librarian who "Helps me find Hemingway, Helps me find Genet, Helps me find Brecht, Helps me find Chandler", which were not, apparently, shelved in alphabetical order.
The Go-Betweens were a band made up of critics, who wore their taste and influences on their sleeves, like buttons. These influences were calculated to appeal to English music critics, to give them a hook on which they could hang their reviews. Graham and David were the local targets of this marketing strategy. I always wondered whether there was anything musical behind them beyond their cynically embraced "influences".
There's nothing wrong with creative people making enough money from their creativity to sustain their lifestyle, but the Go-Betweens were out and out careerists. Everything was done to break through, make it big and become stars in the temples of popular culture (which ironically they failed to achieve, despite all of the self-generated hype - probably because these were the worst, most narcissistic reasons to make music in the first place). Was there ever anything more to them than their artifice and self-promotion?
It didn't help that they could barely sing or play their instruments. Of course, this deficiency was embraced and promoted as part of the DIY strategy behind punk. It was the secret of their shambolic, slightly "wonky", "twee" sound. It took many years and John Willsteed's guitar to help them achieve some level of competency, as they would do on "Streets of Your Town".
[...TBC...]
FOOTNOTES:
(1) If there was ever one great (influential) band from Bris Angeles, it was the Saints, not the Go-Betweens, in my opinion. Ed Kuepper remains a remarkable musician to this day.
(2) I used to think the Rev. Charles M. Young was hilarious.
(3) Paradoxically, Grant was one of only two people I knew to complete the NME crossword puzzles.
(4) I suppose I took them too seriously.
BRIS ANGELEAN DOGGEREL:
Not a Playboy or a Poet (Owed to Bris Angeles)
[The Scansion's Not the Attraction It Once Was]
A grammar boy with no impact
Dreams up ambitious LA lies,
Still wears his old school suits and ties,
Scores sevens in condescension
With his head full of pretension,
Pursues his first bachelor's kiss
And better prospects after this,
Teams up with a country boy act.
In Pursuit of Fame and Fortune
["Everything was Legendary with Robert"]
If they abandoned Brisbane
For the streets of London town,
Left Melbourne with books of myths
From Hollywood and New York,
Heads full of Monkees, Creedence,
Television, the Smiths and
Postcard-era Orange Juice,
Surely then you'd think they'd have
Better prospects after this.
SOUNDTRACK:
The Go-Betweens and Me
When I returned to Bris Angeles at the end of 1979 (after five years at uni in Canberra), there were already well-established myths and legends surrounding the Go-Betweens. Everybody seemed to share the same opinions about the band and their music.
Initially, I had no reason to doubt these myths and legends (believing they were spontaneously generated by local fans), until I was taken to meet the band one weekend at their apartment near the Pink Palace in St Paul's Terrace. I had started writing about music for a magazine variously called "Unit", "Planet" and then "Backstage", all of which were edited by Graham Aisthorpe (soon, unfortunately, to be deceased). I had been introduced to Graham by David Pestorius, who also wrote for Graham's magazines and later became an avant-garde gallery owner and curator.
I can't remember the purpose of the meeting (I think it was just social), but it soon became clear that Graham and David would be the only ones who would be allowed to write about the Go-Betweens in Graham's magazines. This didn't worry me, because there were a lot of other Brisbane bands at the time, most of whom had remained in Bris Angeles (while the Go-Betweens had left in disgust, in search of better prospects and grander achievements) and now collectively constituted a Brisbane scene.
The Go-Betweens viewed Graham as their house critic, and could rely on him to represent and publish their image of themselves (as if he was their PR rep, which he effectively was).
David, on the other hand, though an acolyte, would forever promote his own sympathetic but misguided hypothesis that there was one "Brisbane Sound" (a la "the Boston Sound" or "the Dunedin Sound") and that that Sound was the Go-Betweens. (1)
Apart from the supposed singularity of the Sound, there was an element of truth in this proposition, because there already were, and subsequently were to be, many Go-Betweens copyists, usually comprised of young male uni (visual arts) students (e.g., Out of Nowhere, the Four Gods, Birds of Tin, Bix Pieces and Tinytown) and petite blonde girls who modelled themselves on Edie Sedgwick.
Not content with David's offering, the Go-Betweens would fabricate their own name for the sound of Bris Angeles, "That Striped Sunlight Sound", which they self-consciously modelled on Bob Dylan's "That Thin White Mercury Sound", even down to the word "that" in its title. More like "That Thin, Tinny, Under-Produced Sound", to paraphrase that Perfect Stranger, Mark Dadds.
If you worked in the media, the Go-Betweens regarded you in terms of your role in advancing their career. If you were a mere fan, you were expected to worship their music unreservedly, and buy into the myth of the Brisbane Sound.
My musical taste had been shaped in Canberra, where I became interested in new wave and post-punk music, rather than the initial surge of punk bands (like the Damned). Before I'd left Bris Angeles in 1975, I'd started to subscribe to Rolling Stone (which was banned here as a subversive magazine) (2), while in Canberra, my taste was shaped more by weekly issues of New Musical Express ("NME") (3) and an occasional copy of its rival, "Melody Maker". I also met Steve Kilbey (pre-The Church), who at the time was co-hosting "The Punk Show" with Chicka Watson on Radio 2XX.
The Ramones never really turned me on. I couldn't really get into their cartoonish presentation. (4) Having always been a Velvet Underground, Lou Reed and David Bowie fan, I was more into Patti Smith, Television, Jonathan Richman and Talking Heads. On the other side of the ditch, I also became obsessed with Elvis Costello, Buzzcocks, the Jam, the Clash, the Cure, Magazine, Wire, Echo and the Bunnymen, Gang of Four, and Siouxsie and the Banshees.
In the 70's and 80's, the English press wasn't just about promoting the contemporary music scene, it seemed to be the vehicle for serious cultural criticism, which appealed to me.
If I ever had anything in common with any of the Go-Betweens, it was this love of criticism, especially of the UK variety. You could tell from their interviews that they had consumed these magazines, and had fashioned the bands they read about into musical "influences", in the hope that they could get onto the tail end of their popularity and prosperity.
Over the years, I saw them trot out an ambitious list of musicians: The Monkees, Bob Dylan (what a juxtaposition, those two!), Creedence Clearwater Revival, Television, Orange Juice, the Smiths, all of whom you could subsequently detect in their music, as they concocted their sound. There was an earlier name-dropping list of writers in "Karen", a song about a librarian who "Helps me find Hemingway, Helps me find Genet, Helps me find Brecht, Helps me find Chandler", which were not, apparently, shelved in alphabetical order.
The Go-Betweens were a band made up of critics, who wore their taste and influences on their sleeves, like buttons. These influences were calculated to appeal to English music critics, to give them a hook on which they could hang their reviews. Graham and David were the local targets of this marketing strategy. I always wondered whether there was anything musical behind them beyond their cynically embraced "influences".
There's nothing wrong with creative people making enough money from their creativity to sustain their lifestyle, but the Go-Betweens were out and out careerists. Everything was done to break through, make it big and become stars in the temples of popular culture (which ironically they failed to achieve, despite all of the self-generated hype - probably because these were the worst, most narcissistic reasons to make music in the first place). Was there ever anything more to them than their artifice and self-promotion?
It didn't help that they could barely sing or play their instruments. Of course, this deficiency was embraced and promoted as part of the DIY strategy behind punk. It was the secret of their shambolic, slightly "wonky", "twee" sound. It took many years and John Willsteed's guitar to help them achieve some level of competency, as they would do on "Streets of Your Town".
[...TBC...]
FOOTNOTES:
(1) If there was ever one great (influential) band from Bris Angeles, it was the Saints, not the Go-Betweens, in my opinion. Ed Kuepper remains a remarkable musician to this day.
(2) I used to think the Rev. Charles M. Young was hilarious.
(3) Paradoxically, Grant was one of only two people I knew to complete the NME crossword puzzles.
(4) I suppose I took them too seriously.
BRIS ANGELEAN DOGGEREL:
Not a Playboy or a Poet (Owed to Bris Angeles)
[The Scansion's Not the Attraction It Once Was]
A grammar boy with no impact
Dreams up ambitious LA lies,
Still wears his old school suits and ties,
Scores sevens in condescension
With his head full of pretension,
Pursues his first bachelor's kiss
And better prospects after this,
Teams up with a country boy act.
In Pursuit of Fame and Fortune
["Everything was Legendary with Robert"]
If they abandoned Brisbane
For the streets of London town,
Left Melbourne with books of myths
From Hollywood and New York,
Heads full of Monkees, Creedence,
Television, the Smiths and
Postcard-era Orange Juice,
Surely then you'd think they'd have
Better prospects after this.
SOUNDTRACK:
September 7, 2016
There was no way this wasn't going to be good, and there was no way I wasn't going to love it. That said, I was still impressed with how well Robert Forster told the story of The Go-Betweens and his friendship with Grant McLennan. For the music boffin, there was just the right amount of detail about the songwriting process, studio sessions, band dynamics, various music scenes, memorable gigs, good and bad. But there was more to this memoir than this and Forster has a novelist's eye. I delighted in the story of Grant learning to drive and giving up shortly after, of Robert dying his hair grey the age of 29 and plenty of others I will leave for readers to discover for themselves. My favourite line: 'When I hold a hairdryer it's the only thing that feels as natural in my hands as a guitar'.
July 20, 2017
The mere existence of this book is a revelation to people who followed the Go-Betweens in their heyday: how on earth did an underselling, slightly bookish, slightly melancholy, fitfully brilliant indie band from Brisbane get a worldwide book deal to tell their story? Part of the reason is that Robert Forster has now cut his teeth as a journalist, the other is that The Go-Betweens have somehow managed to endure. Where many of their peers, including the wonderful and doom-laden Triffids, have fallen away, the Go-Betweens - or at least their back catalogue - remain a going concern. Indeed, if Grant McLennan had not been laid low by a life of quiet excess, they might still be going from strength to strength now. Theirs was a special gift, an acquired taste, but one that promised melody meeting poetry meeting rock 'n' roll obtuseness. Postpunk by chronology, sweetening noticeably on their way towards 16 Lovers Lane and then splitting. And then coming back with peerless craft in the late 1990s and early 2000s.
It is a little surprising to hear Forster describe them as a "lucky" band. Received wisdom suggests they were unlucky, but in fact, as Forster points out, they never had to struggle for their breaks. They were allowed in the right doors on the back of their wordplay and nerdy/cool demeanour. They were able to choose the producers they wanted. They were able to record the songs they had written. Perhaps they were unfortunate that Rough Trade was not up to the task of pushing 16 Lovers Lane into more mainstream parts of the charts where it could have gone, but then 1988 was not really the year for the consummate poetic melodic craft of that album. The Go-Betweens as a band were essentially two blind hands on an elephant: sweetness and space meets observation and clutter. When they started out it was the juxtaposition of the cerebral with the sexual throb (Karen) and the counterpoint of McLennan's unexpected bass figures with Forster's angular guitar. Then McLennan moved to guitar and their instrumentation became more ornate (strings, especially), pushing Liberty Belle and the Black Diamond Express into new territory. That was my entrance to their world. I had heard Bachelor Kisses, but not really registered it. Now, 7 years into this lucky career, they had one of their "on" albums (there is a theory that the Go-Betweens made a great album every second album and there's something to be said for that) with some fantastic choruses and lyrics. I was hooked.
The rest, as they say, is trying to keep the blimp in the air, while romantic relationships, lack of money and a nomadic lifestyle try to let the air out of it. The air was finally let out in 1988 right after what is now regarded by many as their masterpiece (the bittersweet 16 Lovers Lane) and they seemed to drift into second-tier solo artist status with appealing but poor-selling albums. Then came the news that the French magazine Les Inrockuptibles called them one of the best-kept secrets in rock. Along came the elusive second act and not as a tribute act to themselves or one of their better-regarded albums, but as a real band after a hiatus. Then came tragedy as Grant McLennan's body succumbed too early, following a suitably unhealthy rock'n'roll lifestyle. Forster is indeed a little cagey about this aspect of their story. He doesn't avoid it, he does talk about their drinking and his own troubles with Hepatitis C, and makes reference to other substances, but he somehow manages to leave it in an oblique corner, occasionally-glimpsed, never really explored as such. In some ways that's a good thing: too many rock bios have tended to blame any negativity all on "the habit" rather than the actions or priorities of the principal. Here Forster manages to sound both confessional and donnish, the golden boy who ran wild and then found a way for his Apollo and Dionysis sides to coexist in a space that conjures literature and postpunk and poetry. Having lost his resident tunesmith he can't quite hit those heights alone and he seems to have come to terms with that (I really do like his Danger in the Past album, though).
This book is an elegy to a time before the fragmenting of the industry, when new and exciting things slipped in and out of cracks and didn't necessarily have to be trumpeted. They found a path that was their own and invited us along. Many did not take them up on it, but those who did were touched and maybe even inspired by the band and its unique vision. I know I was.
It is a little surprising to hear Forster describe them as a "lucky" band. Received wisdom suggests they were unlucky, but in fact, as Forster points out, they never had to struggle for their breaks. They were allowed in the right doors on the back of their wordplay and nerdy/cool demeanour. They were able to choose the producers they wanted. They were able to record the songs they had written. Perhaps they were unfortunate that Rough Trade was not up to the task of pushing 16 Lovers Lane into more mainstream parts of the charts where it could have gone, but then 1988 was not really the year for the consummate poetic melodic craft of that album. The Go-Betweens as a band were essentially two blind hands on an elephant: sweetness and space meets observation and clutter. When they started out it was the juxtaposition of the cerebral with the sexual throb (Karen) and the counterpoint of McLennan's unexpected bass figures with Forster's angular guitar. Then McLennan moved to guitar and their instrumentation became more ornate (strings, especially), pushing Liberty Belle and the Black Diamond Express into new territory. That was my entrance to their world. I had heard Bachelor Kisses, but not really registered it. Now, 7 years into this lucky career, they had one of their "on" albums (there is a theory that the Go-Betweens made a great album every second album and there's something to be said for that) with some fantastic choruses and lyrics. I was hooked.
The rest, as they say, is trying to keep the blimp in the air, while romantic relationships, lack of money and a nomadic lifestyle try to let the air out of it. The air was finally let out in 1988 right after what is now regarded by many as their masterpiece (the bittersweet 16 Lovers Lane) and they seemed to drift into second-tier solo artist status with appealing but poor-selling albums. Then came the news that the French magazine Les Inrockuptibles called them one of the best-kept secrets in rock. Along came the elusive second act and not as a tribute act to themselves or one of their better-regarded albums, but as a real band after a hiatus. Then came tragedy as Grant McLennan's body succumbed too early, following a suitably unhealthy rock'n'roll lifestyle. Forster is indeed a little cagey about this aspect of their story. He doesn't avoid it, he does talk about their drinking and his own troubles with Hepatitis C, and makes reference to other substances, but he somehow manages to leave it in an oblique corner, occasionally-glimpsed, never really explored as such. In some ways that's a good thing: too many rock bios have tended to blame any negativity all on "the habit" rather than the actions or priorities of the principal. Here Forster manages to sound both confessional and donnish, the golden boy who ran wild and then found a way for his Apollo and Dionysis sides to coexist in a space that conjures literature and postpunk and poetry. Having lost his resident tunesmith he can't quite hit those heights alone and he seems to have come to terms with that (I really do like his Danger in the Past album, though).
This book is an elegy to a time before the fragmenting of the industry, when new and exciting things slipped in and out of cracks and didn't necessarily have to be trumpeted. They found a path that was their own and invited us along. Many did not take them up on it, but those who did were touched and maybe even inspired by the band and its unique vision. I know I was.
February 7, 2017
The Go-Betweens were a band that seemingly came out of nowhere for me, a Midwestern kid in the states. I knew little about them, I new they were from Brisbane and in the in the 1980s, college radio, word of mouth, fanzines and such were the only outlets to keep up with bands you loved. My fascination came when I first heard the Before Hollywood LP, those songs!, like the post-punk leaning "Cattle and Cane", "On My Block" and the slinky "As Long as That" would accompany me everywhere, thanks to the generic walkman I always had with me. Some friends would laugh at me fro my love of hardcore, punk rock, along with early blues, R.E.M., Feelies, etc.. I had no identity with any particular social group, wasn't much of a follower..
This book, gifted to me by a wonderful friend (It was an incredible surprise!), was the most interesting "rock autobiography" I've picked up in a long while. While I am no expert on the band outside of a few bootleg docs (one being a Sire promo for 16 Lovers Lane). At the time of 16 Lovers Lane, 1988, the band's drummer, Lindy Morrison, was Forster's former partner and first love. Grant McLennan, meanwhile, was in a relationship with the band's violinist, Amanda Brown. I always thought the friction of these relationships could be heard in the lyrics and the recording process.
The book could be a critique of the music industry, art and it's mysterious processes, or, as I did, read the book as an ode to a friend. Ultimately a reflection of love that exists between two men, a non-sexual one, but nonetheless there is a love story here. One that comes to a terrible boil on May 6, 2006, when Forster, now married with kids, goes to McLennan's home for a family get-together and finds him dead, ostensibly from a heart attack. But it is an end that the years of hard living played a large role in.
The book is well-written, calculated and steers clear of rock and roll clichés. I recommend it to any fan of the band or those curious about a band that, despite having little "hits" in the USA (outside of college radio and record store clerks) lit a fire that continues to burn today.
This book, gifted to me by a wonderful friend (It was an incredible surprise!), was the most interesting "rock autobiography" I've picked up in a long while. While I am no expert on the band outside of a few bootleg docs (one being a Sire promo for 16 Lovers Lane). At the time of 16 Lovers Lane, 1988, the band's drummer, Lindy Morrison, was Forster's former partner and first love. Grant McLennan, meanwhile, was in a relationship with the band's violinist, Amanda Brown. I always thought the friction of these relationships could be heard in the lyrics and the recording process.
The book could be a critique of the music industry, art and it's mysterious processes, or, as I did, read the book as an ode to a friend. Ultimately a reflection of love that exists between two men, a non-sexual one, but nonetheless there is a love story here. One that comes to a terrible boil on May 6, 2006, when Forster, now married with kids, goes to McLennan's home for a family get-together and finds him dead, ostensibly from a heart attack. But it is an end that the years of hard living played a large role in.
The book is well-written, calculated and steers clear of rock and roll clichés. I recommend it to any fan of the band or those curious about a band that, despite having little "hits" in the USA (outside of college radio and record store clerks) lit a fire that continues to burn today.
March 15, 2023
The Go-Betweens have been described as the greatest cult band of the 1980s, yet they were never really that popular in their native Australia, well not until their final album in their second incarnation - 16 Lovers Lane back in 1988/89.
I came across them while living in London in the mid-80s as a journalist. I’d heard Cattle and Cane, their first ‘single’, but it was the album ‘Liberty Belle and the Black Diamond Express’ that really got me interested . I stumbled across the LP at the Westminster public library and took it home to tape it. I fondly recall walking up and down Queensway listening to ‘A Head Full of Steam’ on my Walkman. The joy about life and its possibilities in that song was how I was feeling at the time. We ended up seeing them at the Town and Country in Kentish Town.
This book is nominally the autobiography of Robert Forster, one of the two songwriters in the band. But it’s really a portrait of his late partner Grant McLennan, the McCartney to his Lennon. Well, actually, that’s not really an apt comparison. Because while McLennan was indeed the poppier of the two in his songwriting and melodic sense and while Forster wrote the more angular, less crowd pleasing songs, the former was actually the darker and more tortured figure. McLennan died in 2006 of a heart attack at the young age of 48 (he was born the same year as me), but this came after years of drug and alcohol abuse and what appears to have been undiagnosed severe depression.
Forster writes well and the book is at its best in his descriptions of the creative collaboration between himself and McLennan. Neither were trained musicians and were as passionate about film and literature as about music. They both brought an Australian sensibility to the most unAustralian music influences - the UK theatrical art school rock of Bowie and Roxy Music crossed with American art/punk like the Modern Lovers and Television. This was a world away from the macho Aussie blues/pub rock of the time. The irony, though, is the Go-Betweens sounded more Australian than anyone - or at least a version of Australia that’s rarely celebrated in popular culture here.
This probably explains why they always had a bigger following in Europe than in their home country. Forster describes fondly his years of living in Germany, after the break-up of the band, with the woman who ended up becoming his wife. His marriage, fatherhood and a Hepatitis C diagnosis (a legacy of drug abuse that the book skirts for the most part) put a stop to his rock-n-roll excesses, while Grant partied on for another two decades till his death. (The legend is that Steve Kilbey of The Church turned McLennan onto heroin, but Forster doesn’t go into that at all.)
The Go-Betweens’ greater overseas success mirrored that of a few other arty Australian bands of the time - namely the Triffids, Birthday Party and the Moodists. In this, the book got me thinking about what I see as a neglected strain in Australian culture - a moodier, flintier, and more interiorly expressed form of the dry larrikinism the country so prides itself on. You can hear that strain it in Cattle and Cane by McLennan, but also in many of Forster’s songs, particularly Two Layers of Lightning (where he discovered the ‘Burt Bacharach chord’ - the major 7th).
Aside from its arty sensibility, the band was deliberately out of step with most of its late 70s Australian contemporaries on another score - namely in embracing the inclusion of women musicians. Perhaps taking their cue from Talking Heads, Forster writes that they never wanted to be a boys club and went out expressly to find a woman drummer. In the early days, the band was a trio of Forster, McLennan and Lindy Morrison, the drummer and Forster’s girlfriend. But, ironically, they could be accused of ending up doing just what they set out to avoid. Both founding member Morrison and late 80s addition Amanda Brown (who paired with Grant) were shabbily treated in the unilateral decision by Forster and McLennan to break up the band after their (by far) biggest success in 16 Lovers Lane. Morrison was every bit as an essential member of The Go Betweens, while the multi-instrumentalist and backing vocalist Brown brought an entirely new pop sensibility to the band. Forster seems strangely unreflective on that issue - raising the question of whether his feminism was only ever skin deep and whether he and McLennan ended up being as exclusively blokey as the boogie bands they set themselves against. To me, this is the biggest fault of the book, the lack of a critical and longer-term perspective on that period.
Ultimately, though, and to be fair, this is not really a book about The Go-Betweens as such but one about the long and intense friendship between two Brisbane bohemians who grew up like fish out of water in the buttoned-down, repressive Queensland of the 70s and who became the most unlikely of rock stars. While Forster recounts the details of his own life in workmanlike fashion, he seems more comfortable turning the spotlight on Grant - a man he was clearly in awe of both creatively and intellectually. Indeed, I found myself wondering what would have happened to Forster had he not met Grant. My guess is he would have gone into journalism. He appears to me more as a natural writer than a musician and his work in music criticism in recent years highlights that. But maybe that is just a reflection of the era he grew up in. Everyone was in a band back then, myself included. That’s what you did if you were remotely creative. On the other hand, without Forster’s ambition and drive, I wonder whether McLennan would have ever made it out of Brisbane. The latter lived, and died, as an artist. He needed someone to give shape to his dreams. And that’s what Forster provided.
I was fascinated by this book, partly because these two men were my age and close to my sensibility - musicians, writers and readers never entirely comfortable in their home country but also finding their deepest inspiration there. It’s a great read.
I came across them while living in London in the mid-80s as a journalist. I’d heard Cattle and Cane, their first ‘single’, but it was the album ‘Liberty Belle and the Black Diamond Express’ that really got me interested . I stumbled across the LP at the Westminster public library and took it home to tape it. I fondly recall walking up and down Queensway listening to ‘A Head Full of Steam’ on my Walkman. The joy about life and its possibilities in that song was how I was feeling at the time. We ended up seeing them at the Town and Country in Kentish Town.
This book is nominally the autobiography of Robert Forster, one of the two songwriters in the band. But it’s really a portrait of his late partner Grant McLennan, the McCartney to his Lennon. Well, actually, that’s not really an apt comparison. Because while McLennan was indeed the poppier of the two in his songwriting and melodic sense and while Forster wrote the more angular, less crowd pleasing songs, the former was actually the darker and more tortured figure. McLennan died in 2006 of a heart attack at the young age of 48 (he was born the same year as me), but this came after years of drug and alcohol abuse and what appears to have been undiagnosed severe depression.
Forster writes well and the book is at its best in his descriptions of the creative collaboration between himself and McLennan. Neither were trained musicians and were as passionate about film and literature as about music. They both brought an Australian sensibility to the most unAustralian music influences - the UK theatrical art school rock of Bowie and Roxy Music crossed with American art/punk like the Modern Lovers and Television. This was a world away from the macho Aussie blues/pub rock of the time. The irony, though, is the Go-Betweens sounded more Australian than anyone - or at least a version of Australia that’s rarely celebrated in popular culture here.
This probably explains why they always had a bigger following in Europe than in their home country. Forster describes fondly his years of living in Germany, after the break-up of the band, with the woman who ended up becoming his wife. His marriage, fatherhood and a Hepatitis C diagnosis (a legacy of drug abuse that the book skirts for the most part) put a stop to his rock-n-roll excesses, while Grant partied on for another two decades till his death. (The legend is that Steve Kilbey of The Church turned McLennan onto heroin, but Forster doesn’t go into that at all.)
The Go-Betweens’ greater overseas success mirrored that of a few other arty Australian bands of the time - namely the Triffids, Birthday Party and the Moodists. In this, the book got me thinking about what I see as a neglected strain in Australian culture - a moodier, flintier, and more interiorly expressed form of the dry larrikinism the country so prides itself on. You can hear that strain it in Cattle and Cane by McLennan, but also in many of Forster’s songs, particularly Two Layers of Lightning (where he discovered the ‘Burt Bacharach chord’ - the major 7th).
Aside from its arty sensibility, the band was deliberately out of step with most of its late 70s Australian contemporaries on another score - namely in embracing the inclusion of women musicians. Perhaps taking their cue from Talking Heads, Forster writes that they never wanted to be a boys club and went out expressly to find a woman drummer. In the early days, the band was a trio of Forster, McLennan and Lindy Morrison, the drummer and Forster’s girlfriend. But, ironically, they could be accused of ending up doing just what they set out to avoid. Both founding member Morrison and late 80s addition Amanda Brown (who paired with Grant) were shabbily treated in the unilateral decision by Forster and McLennan to break up the band after their (by far) biggest success in 16 Lovers Lane. Morrison was every bit as an essential member of The Go Betweens, while the multi-instrumentalist and backing vocalist Brown brought an entirely new pop sensibility to the band. Forster seems strangely unreflective on that issue - raising the question of whether his feminism was only ever skin deep and whether he and McLennan ended up being as exclusively blokey as the boogie bands they set themselves against. To me, this is the biggest fault of the book, the lack of a critical and longer-term perspective on that period.
Ultimately, though, and to be fair, this is not really a book about The Go-Betweens as such but one about the long and intense friendship between two Brisbane bohemians who grew up like fish out of water in the buttoned-down, repressive Queensland of the 70s and who became the most unlikely of rock stars. While Forster recounts the details of his own life in workmanlike fashion, he seems more comfortable turning the spotlight on Grant - a man he was clearly in awe of both creatively and intellectually. Indeed, I found myself wondering what would have happened to Forster had he not met Grant. My guess is he would have gone into journalism. He appears to me more as a natural writer than a musician and his work in music criticism in recent years highlights that. But maybe that is just a reflection of the era he grew up in. Everyone was in a band back then, myself included. That’s what you did if you were remotely creative. On the other hand, without Forster’s ambition and drive, I wonder whether McLennan would have ever made it out of Brisbane. The latter lived, and died, as an artist. He needed someone to give shape to his dreams. And that’s what Forster provided.
I was fascinated by this book, partly because these two men were my age and close to my sensibility - musicians, writers and readers never entirely comfortable in their home country but also finding their deepest inspiration there. It’s a great read.
September 19, 2017
Dieses Buch habe ich als Rezensionsexemplar von Heyne Encore erhalten.
Die Rezension wird zum Erscheinungsdatum der Deutschen Übersetzung am 03. Oktober 2017 bei Artnoir.ch aufgeschaltet und später dann auch hier veröffentlicht.
Die Rezension wird zum Erscheinungsdatum der Deutschen Übersetzung am 03. Oktober 2017 bei Artnoir.ch aufgeschaltet und später dann auch hier veröffentlicht.
December 11, 2016
I'm kind of lost for words here. A long time Go-Betweens fan, a Brisbane girl (at heart) and a book and music nerd this was everything I'd hoped it would be and more.
Forster writes The Go-Betweens story with both grace and a healthy level of egotism. From the band's genesis at a suburban battle of the bands through their long career, the albums, shows, tours, band members, disagreements and relationships (also a roll call of some of my favourite musicians). Most of all though he has written the ultimate love letter to Grant McLennan, the quiet, contemplative, enigmatic artist behind my favourite Go-Betweens songs.
I was shocked by McLennan's death, only months after I saw them play Homebake Festival in Sydney. Reading about it from Forster's perspective was heartbreaking.
Needless to say I adored this. I also got to revisit The Go-Betweens back catalogue while reading. Unexpectedly inspiring on many levels.
Forster writes The Go-Betweens story with both grace and a healthy level of egotism. From the band's genesis at a suburban battle of the bands through their long career, the albums, shows, tours, band members, disagreements and relationships (also a roll call of some of my favourite musicians). Most of all though he has written the ultimate love letter to Grant McLennan, the quiet, contemplative, enigmatic artist behind my favourite Go-Betweens songs.
I was shocked by McLennan's death, only months after I saw them play Homebake Festival in Sydney. Reading about it from Forster's perspective was heartbreaking.
Needless to say I adored this. I also got to revisit The Go-Betweens back catalogue while reading. Unexpectedly inspiring on many levels.
August 11, 2024
Picked up my copy at the book launch on Wednesday night at the Greek Club in Brisbane. Robert was in fine form. After nearly an hour of reminisces and snatches of song, the interviewer complained that we hadn't yet reached the formation of The Go-Betweens. Robert was non-plussed: 'Oh we can stay until midnight if we have to.' I wished we had.
You don't have to be born in 1957 in Brisbane and be a Go-Betweens fan to appreciate this very generous, wry and humorous memoir. Don't think I've ever smiled so much reading a book. Robert not only has wit but is a very clever writer. And very human - he celebrates his family, his friends, the city he was born in and his life. And ultimately he celebrates his best friend: Grant McLennan.
You don't have to be born in 1957 in Brisbane and be a Go-Betweens fan to appreciate this very generous, wry and humorous memoir. Don't think I've ever smiled so much reading a book. Robert not only has wit but is a very clever writer. And very human - he celebrates his family, his friends, the city he was born in and his life. And ultimately he celebrates his best friend: Grant McLennan.
February 21, 2017
Robert Forster's account of the career of great Australian indie band the Go-Betweens is at different times witty, heart-warming and, ultimately, sad. There are revelatons here, such as the deep acrimony that the band broke up in, and the sickness that afflicted both leads in the band's final years. This is an excellent rock-and-rolll story, with the quirky erudition of its flamboyant author shining through. There are times when Forster's self-regard becomes a bit much, but this is still a great read and an affectionate account of one of Australia's most under-appreciated bands.
June 1, 2017
Beautiful read chronicling the history of one of my favourite bands, and the friendship that started it all. Forster is an engaging, thoughtful writer who has a wonderful turn of phrase.
Read
January 18, 2018Loved it! not only a great songwriter but a great author too.
I love them.
Love is beyond rating.
I love them.
Love is beyond rating.
November 1, 2017
Automatic mandatory star loss for repeatedly referring to CBGB as CBGBs, Cash's I Walk The Line as I Walked The Line, and for not troubling to make even a brief passing remark about Tuff Monks and/or their After The Fireworks single. Picking the nit aside, very well written, engaging and dotted with charm and insight.
April 6, 2022
In the vaunted halls of well-known songwriting duos, you will find the usual culprits of Lennon-McCartney, Jagger-Richards, and Jones-Strummer. Forster-Mclennan spearheading the Go-Betweens in the greatest songwriting partnership of the 80s deserves a place among those names. Their band may have a bridge named after them in Brisbane, but these accolades they received over the decades are not up to the level that they deserved. That is beside the point though as this book focuses on one of the great themes we all are familiar with: friendship. This autobiography is a true testament to a friendship's power and effect on us in life. Forster may have perfected the pop songform, but his wordplay, observation, and humor translate directly to the written page. At times glossing over the heavier forces in the background such as heroin abuse, this book nonetheless is as intimate as one gets. The pair from nowhere (a.k.a. Brisbane, Forster's title for Brisbane in interviews, not mine) started with a bond over the simple pleasures in life and it blossomed and grew in interesting directions throughout the better part of three decades. The end tragically occurred with Mclennan's surprise heart attack and death at the age of 48. The self-proclaimed playboy in song (song only for the most part), Forster, and the romantic, naive boy, Mclennan, somehow crossed each other's path and started a band even though Mclennan really had no musical experience. The outside, foreign influences they cherished (American bands and movies, French literature, and so on) propelled these two (and their bandmates) to produce decades of melodic genius and insight on the human experience. However, the thing that was most importantly spawned was a friendship worth having a work this good to remember it by. In the song Spring Rain, Forster describes the chase and thrill of newfound love and life's surprises but one hesitates to believe that he wasn't on some level also including friendship and specifically his own with Grant. The level of relationship was never romantic between the two, yet the power remained the same if not greater. Not everybody is lucky enough to meet their soulmate, and this book validates the soulmate concept as a whole. The story shows us that Forster was lucky enough to meet his. We should all wish for a relationship this inspiring and beautiful.
In honor of Grant Mclennan and the Go-Betweens:
Streets of Your Town - Go-Betweens, 1988 https://youtu.be/g-TJd2RnWgQ
Spring Rain - Go-Betweens, 1986 - https://youtu.be/w8nJNT1fY1Y
Finding You - Go-Betweens, 2005 - https://youtu.be/rtKJM-BT8P4
In honor of Grant Mclennan and the Go-Betweens:
Streets of Your Town - Go-Betweens, 1988 https://youtu.be/g-TJd2RnWgQ
Spring Rain - Go-Betweens, 1986 - https://youtu.be/w8nJNT1fY1Y
Finding You - Go-Betweens, 2005 - https://youtu.be/rtKJM-BT8P4
February 17, 2022
One of my biggest regrets is not going to see Robert Forster on one of his solo tours as he passed through Cork. To read this book is to understand the stages that a friendship goes through and at its heart the shared experiences that don't need to be explained in wasted words. These magnificent artists were so fortunate to have had a time capsule record of sorts through their shared songwriting experience that will forever encase their true friendship. Not the obvious perfection of most relationships in our lives but as most close friendships attest to, a struggle through extreme highs and frustrating lows.
A colleague who kindly leant me this book hinted that I may have to read this book again as he had done to fulfill the frenetic nods and references that add to its generous pages. This book will live with me for a long time to come... That's for sure!!
A colleague who kindly leant me this book hinted that I may have to read this book again as he had done to fulfill the frenetic nods and references that add to its generous pages. This book will live with me for a long time to come... That's for sure!!
May 28, 2017
This memoir has taken me back to the music, which I'm really enjoying listening to. I enjoyed the wry humour and self-deprecating tone in Forster's writing style. However, he does tend to draw a tactful curtain over lots of stuff that happened in the '80s.
It's interesting to read about the challenges and rewards of a rock 'n roll lifestyle. Listening to great pop songs like 'Right Here' it really is amazing that they weren't more successful... maybe they were just ahead of their time:)
It's interesting to read about the challenges and rewards of a rock 'n roll lifestyle. Listening to great pop songs like 'Right Here' it really is amazing that they weren't more successful... maybe they were just ahead of their time:)
December 6, 2017
The recently released and highly regarded documentary Right Here by Kriv Stenders has brought me back to The Go-Betweens, and to this book. I've had an arms-length relationship to The Go-Betweens and their music. In fact I began listening to them in a back-to-front fashion, as I was fairly lukewarm about them until I was blown away by Grant McLennan's album Watershed, which led me back to re-evaluate The Go-Between's output, with a better understanding of how I reacted to their songs. Basically, I'm a Grant man, not so much a Robert fan.
It is the combination of Forster and McLennan, and arthouse and pop, which is the reason that The Go-Betweens never cracked it for the big time, but why their albums will stand the test of time. The duelling tendencies of art and pop meant that many Go-Betweens albums were a mish-mash, with a potential Top 40 hit followed by a sparse, obscure song about a Russian novelist. It was an approach that gave the songwriters their head, but didn't bring the commercial success they needed.
There is a pleasing naivety in Forster's book about the rock star potential of the band. During both iterations of the band (1977-1989 and 2000-2006) he writes of how the next album would be the one that broke them properly. That it never happened was partly down to the quirkiness of the music, and partly due to the self-destructive tendencies of the band itself.
A portion of that destructiveness came down to the influence of Lindy Morrison. Drawn into the band after she became Forster's lover, she (inadvertently) cruelled their first stint at success in the UK because Forster couldn't bear to be away from her, so he returned to Australia just as they were beginning to make headway. Morrison's anarchic influence and anti-mainstream attitude also damaged the band's sound and presentation at times, veering them away from any opportunity for more mainstream success. Forster is quiet on a lot of this in the book, as he is on McLennan and Amanda Brown's time as a couple. He deals gently with all ex-bandmembers, perhaps more so than he should have.
Grant & I is more a journey through Forster's feelings, from the idealistic beginnings of The Go-Betweens through the drudgery of years on the road, to the excitement of the re-formation, through to the trauma of Grant's premature death. The book is a tender evocation of Grant. Ever the gentleman, a product of boarding school (Forster too attended a top private school, and both were very good schoolboy cricketers), he and Forster did not usually discuss emotions: in fact at times during the book Forster has to dig into McLennan's lyrics to glean his co-writer's feelings.
Little did either Forster or McLennan know what a dramatic effect on their lives their decision to terminate The Go-Betweens in 1989 would make. For Forster it brought on a time where his life changed for the better, with marriage, kids and sobriety bringing him a new happiness. For McLennan, the decision was a disaster, signalling the end to his relationship with Brown, which took him the best part of a decade to get over. Forster charts McLennan's descent into depression and drinking with the tenderness and helplessness that only a good friend could display.
The reformation of The Go-Betweens seemed to suggest a turn in the fortunes of their musical endeavours, at least, with the band now recognised as an important part of pop history, and a new phase in the Forster/McLennan songwriting partnership foreshadowing a new level of music. Grant's death took all that away.
Forster mentions a few times in the book that he likes reading biographies of artists and musicians to try and achieve an insight into what makes them tick - he is also unashamedly as much of a fanboy as the rest of us, with moving and funny descriptions of meeting people or going to places that are important to his artistic growth. When it comes to describing his own art, he shows us yet again not only how hard it is to describe a creative process, but how hard it can be to divorce oneself and judge critically. He shows us that the criticism of each others work was a vital part of the Forster/McLennan songwriting relationship (wouldn't it be fascinating to read McLennan's take on Forster's view of The Go-Betweens work, and indeed his solo oeuvre). There is much that I disagree with in Forster's description of his own, McLennan's Go-Between work, and indeed McLennan's solo albums, but his descriptions are a valuable record of how a creator feels about his work, both at the time and viewing from a distance.
McLennan appears through the pages of this book as a boy somewhat lost in the World; a boy with a great gift that he tries to use for good, but which crucially let him down at a key point in his life. Forster comes out as someone who for much of his life was trying to be someone else, before finding himself. Along the journey some truly great music was made and recorded. This book is not a warts-and-all uncovering of dirty laundry, it is rather a considered and distilled evocation of a friendship, a partnership, and a band.
Well worth reading.
Check out my other reviews at http://aviewoverthebell.blogspot.com.au/
It is the combination of Forster and McLennan, and arthouse and pop, which is the reason that The Go-Betweens never cracked it for the big time, but why their albums will stand the test of time. The duelling tendencies of art and pop meant that many Go-Betweens albums were a mish-mash, with a potential Top 40 hit followed by a sparse, obscure song about a Russian novelist. It was an approach that gave the songwriters their head, but didn't bring the commercial success they needed.
There is a pleasing naivety in Forster's book about the rock star potential of the band. During both iterations of the band (1977-1989 and 2000-2006) he writes of how the next album would be the one that broke them properly. That it never happened was partly down to the quirkiness of the music, and partly due to the self-destructive tendencies of the band itself.
A portion of that destructiveness came down to the influence of Lindy Morrison. Drawn into the band after she became Forster's lover, she (inadvertently) cruelled their first stint at success in the UK because Forster couldn't bear to be away from her, so he returned to Australia just as they were beginning to make headway. Morrison's anarchic influence and anti-mainstream attitude also damaged the band's sound and presentation at times, veering them away from any opportunity for more mainstream success. Forster is quiet on a lot of this in the book, as he is on McLennan and Amanda Brown's time as a couple. He deals gently with all ex-bandmembers, perhaps more so than he should have.
Grant & I is more a journey through Forster's feelings, from the idealistic beginnings of The Go-Betweens through the drudgery of years on the road, to the excitement of the re-formation, through to the trauma of Grant's premature death. The book is a tender evocation of Grant. Ever the gentleman, a product of boarding school (Forster too attended a top private school, and both were very good schoolboy cricketers), he and Forster did not usually discuss emotions: in fact at times during the book Forster has to dig into McLennan's lyrics to glean his co-writer's feelings.
Little did either Forster or McLennan know what a dramatic effect on their lives their decision to terminate The Go-Betweens in 1989 would make. For Forster it brought on a time where his life changed for the better, with marriage, kids and sobriety bringing him a new happiness. For McLennan, the decision was a disaster, signalling the end to his relationship with Brown, which took him the best part of a decade to get over. Forster charts McLennan's descent into depression and drinking with the tenderness and helplessness that only a good friend could display.
The reformation of The Go-Betweens seemed to suggest a turn in the fortunes of their musical endeavours, at least, with the band now recognised as an important part of pop history, and a new phase in the Forster/McLennan songwriting partnership foreshadowing a new level of music. Grant's death took all that away.
Forster mentions a few times in the book that he likes reading biographies of artists and musicians to try and achieve an insight into what makes them tick - he is also unashamedly as much of a fanboy as the rest of us, with moving and funny descriptions of meeting people or going to places that are important to his artistic growth. When it comes to describing his own art, he shows us yet again not only how hard it is to describe a creative process, but how hard it can be to divorce oneself and judge critically. He shows us that the criticism of each others work was a vital part of the Forster/McLennan songwriting relationship (wouldn't it be fascinating to read McLennan's take on Forster's view of The Go-Betweens work, and indeed his solo oeuvre). There is much that I disagree with in Forster's description of his own, McLennan's Go-Between work, and indeed McLennan's solo albums, but his descriptions are a valuable record of how a creator feels about his work, both at the time and viewing from a distance.
McLennan appears through the pages of this book as a boy somewhat lost in the World; a boy with a great gift that he tries to use for good, but which crucially let him down at a key point in his life. Forster comes out as someone who for much of his life was trying to be someone else, before finding himself. Along the journey some truly great music was made and recorded. This book is not a warts-and-all uncovering of dirty laundry, it is rather a considered and distilled evocation of a friendship, a partnership, and a band.
Well worth reading.
Check out my other reviews at http://aviewoverthebell.blogspot.com.au/
January 4, 2020
Perhaps more of a book for fans, but there is a lot of fun late-80s and 90s music anecdotes of Australian and British music lore. The main story itself, of the friendship of Robert (the author) and his late bandmate Grant McLennan, is beautiful, thoughtful, and vulnerable. I love the Go-Betweens and this was a sweet look behind their struggles and musical masterpieces. Also--I saw Robert perform recently in Portland and he signed my copy after I told him how much his music meant to me. A book I will treasure.
November 17, 2019
Easily one of the best music memoirs I've ever had the pleasure to read.
February 3, 2017
This is a very sweet book about two friends. I've been a fan of The Go-Betweens for a few years now, having previously only known one or two of their songs simply by growing up in Australia. Once I finally put a name to the songs and began to explore their back catalogue, I realized they were one of the most under rated bands who ever lived.
Robert Forster is an interesting man it seems, never one to be modest, he doesn't mind being completely honest about himself. His quirky egotism makes you love him. He talks about being at University and thinking to himself that he would one day start a band, and it would be way better than any of the other bands around town, regardless of the fact that he hadn't even written a song yet.
It is beautiful to read about how the band evolved, and how such a brilliant musical partnership continued to grow up until Grant's final days. Robert and Grant were not musical geniuses, they just enjoyed writing music, and the fact that they were so decidedly un-masculine during the rise of Aussie pub rock, meant that they were kind of doomed from the start. Poetry and sweet melancholy pop had no place on the vodka and sweat drenched stages of the 70's 80's. Which is why they believed they had a better chance in England. But even then they proved to be too good at dodging the trends, meaning that by the end of their career they never even had a radio hit, however when you listen to 'Quiet Heart: The best of The Go-Betweens' you will truly wonder why.
The only reason I gave it 4 stars is because I think it could have been longer, i'm sure there are a lot of tour stories that were skipped. Also, Robert spends a lot of time just breaking down his and Grants songs, and quoting the lyrics. This isn't really a bad thing, as I loved thinking "Yes! he's going to talk about Bye Bye Pride soon!", but it does seem to bulk up a few of the chapters, and sometimes feels rushed when only briefly touching on certain events that took place.
All in all though, it is a very special book, helping to share some much needed light on one of Australia's brightest and beautiful songwriters.
Robert Forster is an interesting man it seems, never one to be modest, he doesn't mind being completely honest about himself. His quirky egotism makes you love him. He talks about being at University and thinking to himself that he would one day start a band, and it would be way better than any of the other bands around town, regardless of the fact that he hadn't even written a song yet.
It is beautiful to read about how the band evolved, and how such a brilliant musical partnership continued to grow up until Grant's final days. Robert and Grant were not musical geniuses, they just enjoyed writing music, and the fact that they were so decidedly un-masculine during the rise of Aussie pub rock, meant that they were kind of doomed from the start. Poetry and sweet melancholy pop had no place on the vodka and sweat drenched stages of the 70's 80's. Which is why they believed they had a better chance in England. But even then they proved to be too good at dodging the trends, meaning that by the end of their career they never even had a radio hit, however when you listen to 'Quiet Heart: The best of The Go-Betweens' you will truly wonder why.
The only reason I gave it 4 stars is because I think it could have been longer, i'm sure there are a lot of tour stories that were skipped. Also, Robert spends a lot of time just breaking down his and Grants songs, and quoting the lyrics. This isn't really a bad thing, as I loved thinking "Yes! he's going to talk about Bye Bye Pride soon!", but it does seem to bulk up a few of the chapters, and sometimes feels rushed when only briefly touching on certain events that took place.
All in all though, it is a very special book, helping to share some much needed light on one of Australia's brightest and beautiful songwriters.
December 22, 2016
'Grant & I' is worth unpacking even if your interest in the Go-Betweens or Australian rock music is cursory at best. It’s a book about friendship more than anything, and about the way relationships never finish but only change form.
Robert the charismatic showman and Grant the sensitive recluse—when together, a force of nature. Robert describes it beautifully: “Grant had too many melodies, I had too many words.” It was a special partnership, not forced, but honed over decades with several women, record labels, and personal projects always meddling with but never severing the tie.
The Go-Betweens, although considered icons of Australian 80s rock and maybe the finest band to ever come out of Brisbane, never scaled the heights they aspired to. They were forever in search of the elusive hit. Their ninth and final album, 'Oceans Apart’ (2005), was not a release underscored by world-weariness. These two gents, now in their middle-age, were genuinely excited about how the album would advance their careers. A chart-topping pop sensation was only an arm’s length away, it seemed.
On May 6, 2006, Grant McLennan had a massive heart attack and died at his home at the age of 48. Robert had pulled up to Grant’s house for a housewarming party only to find an ambulance parked outside, the other guests grieving inside. Robert describes Grant’s premature death as a shock to the system and yet something you could have seen coming. Robert attributes Grant’s decline to the lack of an “anchor”. He had “no life-grounding weight at the end of the long chain we all drag.” If there’s one thing I learned from reading 'Grant & I’, it’s that everyone must find their own anchor. There is a satisfaction to drifting along with the current, but when you’re floating on your back, you’re oblivious to the rip that’s swelling around you.
Robert the charismatic showman and Grant the sensitive recluse—when together, a force of nature. Robert describes it beautifully: “Grant had too many melodies, I had too many words.” It was a special partnership, not forced, but honed over decades with several women, record labels, and personal projects always meddling with but never severing the tie.
The Go-Betweens, although considered icons of Australian 80s rock and maybe the finest band to ever come out of Brisbane, never scaled the heights they aspired to. They were forever in search of the elusive hit. Their ninth and final album, 'Oceans Apart’ (2005), was not a release underscored by world-weariness. These two gents, now in their middle-age, were genuinely excited about how the album would advance their careers. A chart-topping pop sensation was only an arm’s length away, it seemed.
On May 6, 2006, Grant McLennan had a massive heart attack and died at his home at the age of 48. Robert had pulled up to Grant’s house for a housewarming party only to find an ambulance parked outside, the other guests grieving inside. Robert describes Grant’s premature death as a shock to the system and yet something you could have seen coming. Robert attributes Grant’s decline to the lack of an “anchor”. He had “no life-grounding weight at the end of the long chain we all drag.” If there’s one thing I learned from reading 'Grant & I’, it’s that everyone must find their own anchor. There is a satisfaction to drifting along with the current, but when you’re floating on your back, you’re oblivious to the rip that’s swelling around you.
January 30, 2018
Songwriters Robert Forster and Grant McLennan formed the Go Betweens 40 years ago , creating angular, literary pop that captured both the hearts and minds of their biggest fans. They were brothers united in a campaign to become a hugely successful rock n roll band and they had the talent — and an exceptional drummer named Lindy Morrison—to do it. Unfortunately, it never happened. Fans of the band will want to savor every word of this book, but even those who haven’t bought into the cult of the Go Betweens yet will appreciate Forster’s literary skills and especially the tender way he handles McLennan’s heartbreaking death.
And if you’ve read this far, we should definitely be GoodReads friends.
And if you’ve read this far, we should definitely be GoodReads friends.
September 19, 2016
My partner and I have an ongoing debate regarding the use of the adjective 'amazing' when it comes to the Go-Betweens. I guess her point has always been that they had such a perfectly humble and understated sound, that the word just doesn't fit.
I'm sitting here listening to Oceans Apart, just having finished the book, and am willing to double-down...this book was pretty amazing too. More pretentious in the book than they were in their sound, Robert Forster captures it well. Like a songwriter would.
Warning: This book may somehow make you consider moving to Brisbane!
I'm sitting here listening to Oceans Apart, just having finished the book, and am willing to double-down...this book was pretty amazing too. More pretentious in the book than they were in their sound, Robert Forster captures it well. Like a songwriter would.
Warning: This book may somehow make you consider moving to Brisbane!
September 2, 2016
I read this straight after reading Steve Kilbey's autobiography — and in many ways, they are companion pieces, covering the same time frame, and being linked by both men's friendship with Grant MacLennan.
Of the two, I think Robert's is slightly better, and a book I could recommend for non-fans. I found the final chapters very emotional, especially having attended Robert and Grant's final concert. It brought back a lot of sad memories.
Of the two, I think Robert's is slightly better, and a book I could recommend for non-fans. I found the final chapters very emotional, especially having attended Robert and Grant's final concert. It brought back a lot of sad memories.
November 10, 2016
It's like a Go-Betweens song, actually: detailed, humane, curiously relaxed in its flow--and DAMN good. It does make you even sadder that Grant (who remains a bit of an enigma) departed so soon, but even if he hadn't, this was definitely Robert's tale to tell.
November 10, 2016
A really well told story - about a friendship, and music and the constant inspiration of the arts and the power of self-belief. But mostly this is the memoir of a friendship, lovingly told with a heavy heart.
March 23, 2018
They fronted two of my favourite Aussie bands. They are two legendary outfits – even if, with one in particular, the legend outweighs the legacy. Their bands are not top rung – never came within close proximity to the international sales of, say, AC/DC, INXS, Little River Band, Crowded House and certainly never had the following of Cold Chisel or the Oils. They weren't perhaps even second tier, but the Go-Betweens and the Cruel Sea are loved by thousands and their respective auras only enhance as the decades pass. And, as to be expected, what you see on stage is what you get reflected in the style of the two books. 'Grant and Me' is written by the bombastic, eccentric and cross-dressing co-lead of the band Brisbane City Council, appropriately, named a bridge after. Call it somewhat high-brow if you will. Tex Perkins – only his mum calls him Greg - is the other author, assisted by acclaimed journalist Stuart Coupe. He gets his story sufficiently down there and dirty. Call it low brow.
Forster makes the Go-Betweens sound greater than the sum of the whole. In their first incarnation they were, at best, just staying one step ahead of struggle-town, even succumbing to the enormity of the task on occasions. They never really made it then – just had glimpses of what could be if they could hold their shit together. They rarely did for an extended period. They were the real deal, but the cards they were dealt always weren't quite the full hand. Commercial success, with the exception of only one certifiable hit ('The Streets of Your Town') didn't really come their way then. The hard graft of paying their dues eventually caught up with them as, in Fleetwood Mac style, relationships tore the group asunder in the end.
Along with that other unique outfit, the Saints, the Go-Betweens were a product of Joh's Brisbane – Hicksville in other words. Both bands attempted to take their music to the world with shambolic optimism, only to return to Oz with their tail between their legs. Both collapsed in the after-story. Forster's band did reform around the turn of the millennium, but things were still strained between the personnel, even if their approach was far more professional. They had some success and the future again seemed full of potential, but all that was snuffed out with Grant McClennan's untimely passing in 2006. Forster struggles on as a solo act and wit about town, still, no doubt, a legend in his own lunchbox. I like the man and I buy his quality albums, but for all the gilding of the lily, the story of that terrific band is one of what might have been. But still their songs were quite sublime – and such treasures as 'Cattle and Cane', 'Lee Remick' (Forster meets her), 'Quiet Heart' and my favourite, 'Dive For Your Memory' are timeless.
And, in a lovely segue, Tex Perkins writes of seeing Forster and his mates performing at the Exchange Hotel, Fortitude Valley when he was a young buck, back in '81. Tex is pure rock'n'roll; perhaps our answer to Keith Richards. He's had a life, but has never aspired to the glory, unlike Forster – or that's how he would have us believe it. He is perhaps better known these days for presenting an authentic Johnny Cash tribute to the punters all around Oz. But he is, as well as was, so much more. I've seen his impersonation. It's great and he is touring the land again as I write with it. Tex, living up to his name, has never hid his love of country music, despite fronting some of the best pub-rock bands Australia has produced. He writes candidly of his days with Tex, Don and Charlie, the Dark Horses, the Beasts of Bourbon (a new album on the way) and the one that I'm enamoured of, the Cruel Sea. We even had his take on the supposed piss-take that was the Ladyboyz.
My entry into the joys of Tex came in reverse fashion – with the Cash show, then a duet he did on RocKwiz with Clare Bowditch, 'Fairytale of New York', that made me sit up and take notice. Then I discovered the Cruel Sea and I was sold on him. As you would expect, after years in the industry, Perkins tells some great yarns, especially about close encounters with rock royalty that didn't quite go to plan - Mick J, PJ Proby, Kurt Cobain etc. Tex is as much about the swagger as anything else and that is the way in which this very readable tome is composed.
Along with Forster, he has earnt his place in the local rock pantheon, but unlike the former, I bet he couldn't really give a dam – or so he would have us believe.
And as to which I relished the most? Well, Tex wins hands down. Telling it how it was will always win hands down.
Forster makes the Go-Betweens sound greater than the sum of the whole. In their first incarnation they were, at best, just staying one step ahead of struggle-town, even succumbing to the enormity of the task on occasions. They never really made it then – just had glimpses of what could be if they could hold their shit together. They rarely did for an extended period. They were the real deal, but the cards they were dealt always weren't quite the full hand. Commercial success, with the exception of only one certifiable hit ('The Streets of Your Town') didn't really come their way then. The hard graft of paying their dues eventually caught up with them as, in Fleetwood Mac style, relationships tore the group asunder in the end.
Along with that other unique outfit, the Saints, the Go-Betweens were a product of Joh's Brisbane – Hicksville in other words. Both bands attempted to take their music to the world with shambolic optimism, only to return to Oz with their tail between their legs. Both collapsed in the after-story. Forster's band did reform around the turn of the millennium, but things were still strained between the personnel, even if their approach was far more professional. They had some success and the future again seemed full of potential, but all that was snuffed out with Grant McClennan's untimely passing in 2006. Forster struggles on as a solo act and wit about town, still, no doubt, a legend in his own lunchbox. I like the man and I buy his quality albums, but for all the gilding of the lily, the story of that terrific band is one of what might have been. But still their songs were quite sublime – and such treasures as 'Cattle and Cane', 'Lee Remick' (Forster meets her), 'Quiet Heart' and my favourite, 'Dive For Your Memory' are timeless.
And, in a lovely segue, Tex Perkins writes of seeing Forster and his mates performing at the Exchange Hotel, Fortitude Valley when he was a young buck, back in '81. Tex is pure rock'n'roll; perhaps our answer to Keith Richards. He's had a life, but has never aspired to the glory, unlike Forster – or that's how he would have us believe it. He is perhaps better known these days for presenting an authentic Johnny Cash tribute to the punters all around Oz. But he is, as well as was, so much more. I've seen his impersonation. It's great and he is touring the land again as I write with it. Tex, living up to his name, has never hid his love of country music, despite fronting some of the best pub-rock bands Australia has produced. He writes candidly of his days with Tex, Don and Charlie, the Dark Horses, the Beasts of Bourbon (a new album on the way) and the one that I'm enamoured of, the Cruel Sea. We even had his take on the supposed piss-take that was the Ladyboyz.
My entry into the joys of Tex came in reverse fashion – with the Cash show, then a duet he did on RocKwiz with Clare Bowditch, 'Fairytale of New York', that made me sit up and take notice. Then I discovered the Cruel Sea and I was sold on him. As you would expect, after years in the industry, Perkins tells some great yarns, especially about close encounters with rock royalty that didn't quite go to plan - Mick J, PJ Proby, Kurt Cobain etc. Tex is as much about the swagger as anything else and that is the way in which this very readable tome is composed.
Along with Forster, he has earnt his place in the local rock pantheon, but unlike the former, I bet he couldn't really give a dam – or so he would have us believe.
And as to which I relished the most? Well, Tex wins hands down. Telling it how it was will always win hands down.
December 9, 2017
Having previously read Robert's other book 'The 10 rules of rock and roll' I was really keen to see how he wrote about his and Grant's relationship in longer form. The peices in his first book were some of my favourites. Robert writes in a thoughtful, reflective and respectful way. He treads the line between 'his' truth and 'the' truth, especially when it comes to the inner relationships and breakups within the Go-Betweens. I'm sure there are many sides to the story when it comes to how Lindy and Amanda saw the breakup of the group, and what it was like to be the other person mixed into Robert and Grant's friendship.
This friendship, not surprisingly, is at the core of the book. Robert being a little in awe of Grant's composure and knowledge when they meet at University, Robert teaching Grant to play guitar and the eternal competetiveness between the two singer/songwriters, pushing each other to further their creative output. It charts the band's time overseas, recording, touring and sometimes just managing to exist before the money ran out. There are many great tales of time with other musicians, like the Birthday Party, Edwyn Collins, Roddy Frame, playing golf with Llyod Cole, touring (and talking about wearing dresses) with REM, meeting Sleater-Kinney.
I knew many songs of the Go-Betweens but never got to see them play live. I loved their songs but I'd never bought any albums. Robert calls them a rock and roll band (as apposed to pop), but rather than songs about beer and girls, they wrote about childhood and referencing literature and movies. I didn't know a lot about where they recorded or the fact they spent so much time overseas. Growing up in Melbourne in the 80s and 90s I thought they would be like other aussie bands and be based here and touring periodically overseas rather than the other way around.
The only person Robert judges is himself. He reflects from the postion of settled family man on his time wearing capes, dresses, taking drugs and living life off the rails. We see Grant from his perspective and it's only at towards the end of the book he reflects on the lifestyle and relationships that lead Grant to disreguard both his mental and physical health, leading to a heart attack aged 48.
Robert writes about love. His love of music, the lifestyle of being in a band (and the centre of attention), the women who formed him and changed his life (Lindy and later Karin) and the great love that was his 30 year friendship with Grant. Robert promised to 'carry it on', words he spoke as the coffin was loaded into the car. I hope to read the next chapter of Robert's life as he keeps this promise.
This friendship, not surprisingly, is at the core of the book. Robert being a little in awe of Grant's composure and knowledge when they meet at University, Robert teaching Grant to play guitar and the eternal competetiveness between the two singer/songwriters, pushing each other to further their creative output. It charts the band's time overseas, recording, touring and sometimes just managing to exist before the money ran out. There are many great tales of time with other musicians, like the Birthday Party, Edwyn Collins, Roddy Frame, playing golf with Llyod Cole, touring (and talking about wearing dresses) with REM, meeting Sleater-Kinney.
I knew many songs of the Go-Betweens but never got to see them play live. I loved their songs but I'd never bought any albums. Robert calls them a rock and roll band (as apposed to pop), but rather than songs about beer and girls, they wrote about childhood and referencing literature and movies. I didn't know a lot about where they recorded or the fact they spent so much time overseas. Growing up in Melbourne in the 80s and 90s I thought they would be like other aussie bands and be based here and touring periodically overseas rather than the other way around.
The only person Robert judges is himself. He reflects from the postion of settled family man on his time wearing capes, dresses, taking drugs and living life off the rails. We see Grant from his perspective and it's only at towards the end of the book he reflects on the lifestyle and relationships that lead Grant to disreguard both his mental and physical health, leading to a heart attack aged 48.
Robert writes about love. His love of music, the lifestyle of being in a band (and the centre of attention), the women who formed him and changed his life (Lindy and later Karin) and the great love that was his 30 year friendship with Grant. Robert promised to 'carry it on', words he spoke as the coffin was loaded into the car. I hope to read the next chapter of Robert's life as he keeps this promise.
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