Turn Around Bright Eyes (28 page)

You might be tempted to feel it’s too late for you. But ultimately, that’s what karaoke is there to remind us. It’s
never
too late to let a song ruin your life.

Writing a book is a journey, and as they say, a journey of a thousand miles begins with one step. Then another step. Then about twenty minutes of sitting on the ground saying, “Steps suck. Where’s the bus?” The point is, journeys are complicated and friends are the best. So thank you to everybody who has helped me.

My genius editor Carrie Thornton kept inspiring me to sing my life with her unbounded brilliance. My genius agent Daniel Greenberg brought all the relentless energy he exhibits while air-drumming along with
Sticky Fingers
. Thanks to all the great people at It Books, especially Cal Morgan, Kevin Callahan, Michael Barrs, Shannon Donnelly, Heidi Metcalfe, Tina Andreadis, Brittany Hamblin, Shannon Plunkett, and Jarrod Taylor. Thanks as well to Brian Tart, Phil Budnick, Amanda Walker, Christine Ball, Carrie Swetonic, Jay Sones, Monika Verma, Gregg Kulick, and everyone at Levine Greenberg.

Gavin Edwards read countless drafts of this book with all the wisdom, cheer, and patience he brings to listening to me sing “Hot Legs.” He is the Freddie Mercury in the “Under Pressure” duet of my life. Thanks, Gavin.

One of the smartest moves I made as a young lad was picking Joe Levy as my hero. I’m always aiming to make him glad he taught me to write. He offered sage advice on every line of this book and helped keep me sane, as he always has. Thanks, Joe.

Gratitude to all my comrades in song, especially Caryn Ganz, queen of noise. Nils Bernstein, for the rebellious jukebox in his soul. Jennie Boddy, for endless love as well as “Endless Love.” Marc Weidenbaum, for the ukelele. My friend, brother, and teacher Joe Gross, for knowing what to do. Jenny Eliscu, for the night we did “Let Me Blow Ya Mind.” Melissa Eltringham, for the night we did “Dim All the Lights.” Chuck Klosterman, who beats the drums of my brainpan like Alex Van Halen attacking a flaming gong.

My colleagues at
Rolling Stone
, past and present, are always an inspiration. Will Dana is both the Donald Fagen and the Walter Becker of magazine editors, and writing for him is a countdown to ecstasy. Sean Woods is the man. Alison Weinflash has profoundly influenced my thinking about Rush and much else. (Including the fact that David Coverdale had a brunette period. Don’t even.) Andy Greene combines endless erudition with endless curiosity, which in his case adds up to endless wisdom. Thanks to Bill Crandall, Alexis Sottile, Christian Hoard, Jon Dolan, Simon Vozick-Levinson, Monica Herrera, Nathan Brackett, Brian Hiatt, Jonathan Ringen, Josh Eels, Coco McPherson, Jonah Weiner, Tom Walsh, John Dioso, Eric Bates, Gaylord Fields, Marielle Anas, and David Fricke. Very special thanks, as always, to Jann Wenner.

Thanks to Jim Steinman for writing “Total Eclipse of the Heart.” Thanks to Bonnie Tyler for singing the hell out of it. And that guy in the video with the glowing eyeballs. You frighten me. But thank you. Rebecca Odes and Craig Marks for “99 Luftballons” in 2001. Alex Pappademas for singing “No Scrubs” at the same party. Everyone from Rock ‘n’ Roll Fantasy Camp, especially David Fishof, Ed Hill, and my bandmates in the Unfair Advantage. And the long-suffering yet impeccably professional staff of Sing Sing.

For checking my head in a thousand ways, I embrace Matthew Perpetua, Darcey Steinke, Kevin O’Donnell, Sean Howe, Chris Molanphy, Evie Nagy, Jeffrey Stock, Allison Frank, Sasha Frere-Jones, Tanya Selvaratnam, Sarah Durham Wilson (of Daily Do It Girl), Jen Sudul Edwards (for “White Rabbit”), Lizzy Goodman (I knew you were trouble when you walked in), Doree Shafrir, Niki Kanodia, Maria Sherman, Caryn Palmieri, Douglas A. Martin, Asif Ahmed, Bill Tipper, Michaelangelo Matos, Melissa Maerz, Phil Dellio, Julie Klausner, Ed Park, Nick Catucci, Andrew Beaujon (for his trenchant commentary on Rod Stewart), Brian Raftery (for his excellent and informative history
Don’t Stop Believin’
), Jonathan Lethem (did you read his Talking Heads book? holy crap), Robert Grossman (for “Highway to Hell”), Dr. Liz Leininger (for dropping frog science), Arun Amar, Alfred Soto, Mark Oppenheimer, Thomas Inskeep, Anna Mello, Mr. James Hejduk, Radha Metro, Stephanie Bird, Phil LaMarr, Katherine Profeta, Dan Snierson, Andrew Jaffe, John Gould, Marc Spitz, Sarah Grant, Tom Nawrocki, Laura Larson (she is the champions), Caitlin Wittlif, Rebecca Keith, Melissa Febos, Marisa and Dave Bettencourt, Ellen Carney White, Karen Spirito Augustyn, Stephanie Wells, Bernie Kaminski, Hilary Spiegelman, Amanda Verdon, Isabelle George Rosett, everybody at WTJU, everybody at Enid’s (where they like
Sandinista!
even more than I do), plus Tyler Magill (“cows are the silent jury in the trial of mankind”), Adam Busch, and Josh Krahn for letting me sing onstage with them at Tokyo Rose in the spring of 2000.

Robert Christgau and Greil Marcus, the greatest rock critics ever, must get weary of being mentioned in the same sentence so often but I guess that’s the price of being the greatest ever at something. They were the ones who made me want to write about music and all these years later they’re still the best. What a stroke of luck to discover their words at a young age.

Thanks to the gentlemen of Duran Duran: Simon Le Bon, Nick Rhodes, John Taylor, Roger Taylor, as well as Wendy Laister and Katy Krassner. The Beta Band, for giving me my opening line with “The Hard One.” Taylor Swift, for turning my nieces into guitarists and songwriters. The Brazilian guy sitting two tables behind me in the coffee shop who “couldn’t help” noticing I was typing about Neil Peart and spent twenty minutes telling me how many times he’s seen Rush. You epitomize that which is awesome in all of us. And Spandau Ballet, for urging me to take my seaside arms and write the next line.

Since the topic of alcohol comes up a time or two in these pages, a salute to my sober karaoke commandos for always putting the “riot” in “sobriety.”

Musicians are the greatest. Thanks to everyone who strums a guitar, bangs a drum, toots a horn, licks a flute, bothers a piano, presses record on a boombox. Thanks to every DJ who played that song that time and every band who demolished that room and every scribe who spread the word and every fan who showed up and shut their phone off and felt the noise. Like Joe Strummer used to say, we are the Clash. Silence is the bad guy and silence is gonna lose.

R.I.P. Adam Yauch, Teddy Pendergrass, Luther Vandross, Eugene Record, Poly Styrene, Alex Chilton, Davy Jones, Donna Summer—so many of the great voices I breathe in whenever I sing their songs. R.I.P. lots of cool people. Nobody’s forgotten you, trust me. R.I.P. Teena Marie and thanks for “Lovergirl.”

My deepest gratitude and love goes to my family. This book is dedicated to the three women who made me lucky: Ann Sheffield, Tracey Mackey, and Caroline Hanlon. My sisters were the first voices I ever sang with. I always hear their voices in my head and carry them in my heart. There is nobody else in the world like them, not even their rock-star daughters, and I thank them for their awe-inspiring love and support and patience. Thanks to my beloved mom and dad, Mary and Bob Sheffield, for giving me my sisters and the rest of the world. Thanks to Charlie, Sarah, Allison, David, and Bryant Mackey; Sydney, Jack, Maggie, Mallory, and John Hanlon; John Grub; Drema Gross; Buddy and Nadine Crist; all the Twomeys, Sheffields, Durfers, Govers, Courtneys and the rest of my family. Thanks to Donna Needham for “Super Trouper.” Thanks to Sean, Jake and Joe Needham; Jonathan, Karianne, Ashley and Amber Polak; Tony and Shirley Viera.

Most of all, thanks to Ally, my favorite thing about the universe, for inspiring me, for never getting tired of watching the “Church of the Poison Mind” video, for sharing this planet and its music with me forever. I just wanna be your lovergirl. I just wanna rock your world.

ROB SHEFFIELD
is a columnist for
Rolling Stone
, where he has been writing about music, TV, and pop culture since 1997. He is the author of two national bestsellers,
Love Is a Mix Tape: Love and Loss, One Song at a Time
and
Talking to Girls About Duran Duran: One Young Man’s Quest for True Love and a Cooler Haircut
. He also appears regularly on VH1. He lives with his wife in Brooklyn.

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LOVE IS A MIX TAPE
TALKING TO GIRLS ABOUT DURAN DURAN

T
URN AROUND BRIGHT EYES
. Copyright © 2013 by Rob Sheffield. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

FIRST EDITION

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

ISBN 978-0-06-220762-3

EPub Edition June 2013 ISBN 9780062207647

Version 08302013

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