One of the problems facing the celebrity autobiographer is the difficulty of transforming an interesting life into an interesting book. In an age of non-stop entertainment coverage, how does a writer overcome hackneyed rock star clichés while telling stories that are numbingly familiar to anyone with even a cursory familiarity with VH1's Behind the Music? Slash's innovative approach: use lots and lots of pictures.
While it's perhaps unfair to accuse Slash (born Saul Hudson) or his co-writer Anthony Bozza of padding this bulky book, these photos, along with erratically inserted jumbo quotes, serve to make the book resemble nothing so much as a 480-page magazine article. Frankly, it’s excessive — which actually makes sense, given the book's subject matter.
Slash, the former lead guitarist for Guns N' Roses and current lead guitarist for Velvet Revolver, is as well known for his excesses as he is for his guitar-playing. The book opens with Slash describing the defibrillator he had implanted in his heart when he was 35. “Fifteen years of overdrinking and drug abuse had swollen that organ to one beat short of exploding,” he writes. Reading about his hard-partying days, it strikes this reader as remarkable that anything short of an iron lung can keep him alive.
From trashing hotel rooms to pounding half-gallons of vodka daily and shooting up every drug imaginable, Slash embodies the ’80s ideal of the rock-star lifestyle. While portions of the book devoted to his various vices hold a morbid fascination for the casual reader, the stories tend to blend into one another and are rarely memorable. Though Slash’s “warts and all” approach to storytelling must kill on the party circuit, it is a little unsettling to read about the venereal warts he picked up from his “sweet little junkie jailbait girlfriend.” A good yarn does not a good memoir make. Since Slash never goes deeper into his reasons for pursuing a self-destructive lifestyle than to suggest he is someone who shouldn’t have too much free time on his hands, we’re left with the hazy reminiscences of a party survivor, entertained, but never edified.
Ultimately, in the book as in his life, the drugs are just a distraction from the music — which is a shame, since Slash is at his most readable when writing about songs. Whether discussing the classic rock that first inspired him to pick up a guitar, or dissecting his contributions to classic Guns N' Roses songs like “Welcome to the Jungle” and “November Rain,” Slash is a surprisingly passionate and articulate rock ’n’ roll observer.
When it comes to the dissolution of the band that made his name, Slash portrays the falling out as being gradual and inevitable. A breakdown in communication results in alienation and fragmentation. For diehard music buffs and unrepentant bangers, Slash by Slash is worth reading for the insights afforded by his first-hand experiences of the rise and fall of the biggest rock band of its time. Plus, lots and lots of pictures.
