It’s always with fear and trepidation that I crack open a musician’s memoir. For every Keith Richards autobiography, there are several dozen tomes that collapse under the weight of their own self-import and overwrought prose.
James Fearnley‘s new book, Here Comes Everybody: The Story of the Pogues is as enrapturing as any I’ve read. It starts off shakily, discussing as it does Fearnley’s youth with a bit of a gloss to his upbringing.
After that, however, it’s a fascinating, rollicking series of stories. Fearnley’s time with Shane McGowan begins with the Nips, prior to the Pogues, and those stories are wonderful, giving a little-seen glimpse at the early days of McGowan’s infamous carousing.
McGowan is as much a character in this book as anyone, and just due to his focus as the center around which the Pogues revolved, he features prominently. One can’t help but wonder how the band mad it so long with such a drunken mess as a lead singer, but his brilliance and magnetism seems to have made him such an invaluable, irrepressible presence that his despicable behavior was forgiven over and over again.
Fearnley manages to weave details of the band, his personal life, and recording into something that magaes to flow easily, without ever lapsing into masturbatory oratories, wherein he delves into music-geek gear or tech specifics at the expense of the narrative. He allows himself the occasional lapse into discussion of octaves and music theory, but it’s as explanation, not as substitution for actual development.
The absolute best story — and I’m almost loathe to reveal this detail — is that “Fairytale of New York” weaves its way in and out of the narrative for several chapters. It’s nearly a quarter of the book before the song finds its way, and becomes what it is now known as — a modern classic. It’s a testament to Fearnley’s writing, the way he foreshadows and toys with the reader’s knowledge, until the final, cathartic reveal.
Here Comes Everybody is out now from Chicago Review Press, and you should go buy it right now, because as much as I loved it, you really need to read it yourself. I killed it in 24 hours, and that was only because there was a workday and the need to sleep in the middle of it.