Books and booze and rock’n’roll

Photo by Andy Pidge

Last week I went to see Viv Albertine at the Walthamstow Rock’n’Roll Book Club. Everyone should have a rock’n’roll book club. It’s a brilliant idea and I wish there was one where I live. But luckily I have a friend in Walthamstow and she invited me along.

The club is (usually) in an old cinema, which feels like a suitably rock’n’roll venue. A bit vintage, a bit shabby, hanging on to some glamour. (Aren't we all?) The central ticket booth is now a cocktail bar, which I thought was pretty cool.

We saw Pete Wylie there last year, which was an epic evening of talking and singing. The Viv Albertine gig was a bit more conventional (!), ie she was interviewed, read bits of her book, took questions and then signed books.

I went along in my moth-eaten mohair jumper and my Slits badge. Which I then thought about hiding every time Viv said she didn’t want to be ‘Viv from the Slits’ any more. But it’s one of my punk rock medals. Part of my history. And part of hers, too, whatever she says.

I agreed with nearly everything she said, though. But I can’t give you any soundbites because I was too busy listening to make notes.

She talked about the things in her latest book, To Throw Away Unopened: family dynamics, feminist rage, bad dates. She talked about refusing to play the role your family expects from you. I’ve read it in the book but it resonated with me more this time. Does this mean I don’t have to be the ‘matriarch’ after all?

She didn’t talk much about the ‘traumatic’ deathbed scene that dominates the book, probably because it’s too traumatic. (Which was a relief, as those subjects are a bit raw for me at the moment.)
She talked about how she learned to be a writer, with her first book Clothes, Music, Boys. I loved hearing about this.

She had to make it up as she went along, so she started with what she knew about music: structure, rhythm, melody. Each chapter like a song, each book like an album. She made it hard for herself, because she didn’t want to do a standard celebrity memoir: ‘then this happened, then this happened’. She took a punk approach: with no technique to start with, working out her own technique. The result is honest, and it’s art.

There were a lot of women in the audience, and a lot around my (and Viv’s) age. Which I liked. But she did comment in the Q&A that there were more questions from men. And of course there is always the bloke who wants to mansplain punk.  This guy went further, though. He would like, he said, to read a book about the punk years from a female perspective. To which the only answer was ‘Have you read my first book?’

A woman asked what she called ‘the Smash Hits question’: what music does Viv listen to now? Viv’s answer: ‘I like silence’. I was so glad. I feel guilty when my friends go out and listen to new bands, but there’s too much music around now. Silence means more.

And Viv mischievously added, don’t bother if you can’t be better than the Slits. Then she changed it to: don’t bother if you’re not going to do something that’s better or different. Which seems fair enough.

Afterwards, there was a queue for book signings and photos. I said to my friend: ‘I didn’t fight the punks wars so people could get selfies with celebs.’ I hadn’t brought my copy of the book with me: it hadn’t crossed my mind to get it autographed. I still have that punk mentality that the audience and the artist are equals. Viv Albertine might be prettier and more talented than me, but we have enough in common that there is a shared perspective. That’s why I read books. And that’s why books are the new rock’n’roll.