Steve Jones Lonely Boy (2016)
I'd heard good things about this one and it has exceeded my expectations. I've read a few books about the Pistols over the years and never anticipated that the best would be written by their guitarist, a man who, by his own admission, could barely read or write until he was in his thirties. To be fair, Lonely Boy wasn't so much written as told to some bloke with a tape recorder, so it reads like a transcription of a conversation in a pub; which might be a problem but for Jones being sharp as a knife and a genuine wit. It turns out that I didn't actually know much about the guy before this beyond a penchant for pies, beer and knobbing. I didn't realise quite how driven he was in pursuit of the same, or quite how expansive his career as petty criminal had been, or that he was clearly the most important Sex Pistol, the one without whom it would have been a different group and probably a waste of time.
Lonely Boy reminds me of nothing so much as being sat in the pub with Terry, with whom I used to work, talking complete bollocks, but complete bollocks with a point, and which ultimately says something profoundly meaningful about existence albeit in an indirect way. It's a fucking joy to read and makes most other rock autobiographies look like complete wank.
Jonesy, I tip my hat to you. This is the best thing I've read in a long, long time.
Makes Lydon look a bit of a twat too!
I'd heard good things about this one and it has exceeded my expectations. I've read a few books about the Pistols over the years and never anticipated that the best would be written by their guitarist, a man who, by his own admission, could barely read or write until he was in his thirties. To be fair, Lonely Boy wasn't so much written as told to some bloke with a tape recorder, so it reads like a transcription of a conversation in a pub; which might be a problem but for Jones being sharp as a knife and a genuine wit. It turns out that I didn't actually know much about the guy before this beyond a penchant for pies, beer and knobbing. I didn't realise quite how driven he was in pursuit of the same, or quite how expansive his career as petty criminal had been, or that he was clearly the most important Sex Pistol, the one without whom it would have been a different group and probably a waste of time.
Lonely Boy reminds me of nothing so much as being sat in the pub with Terry, with whom I used to work, talking complete bollocks, but complete bollocks with a point, and which ultimately says something profoundly meaningful about existence albeit in an indirect way. It's a fucking joy to read and makes most other rock autobiographies look like complete wank.
Jonesy, I tip my hat to you. This is the best thing I've read in a long, long time.
Makes Lydon look a bit of a twat too!
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