This book explores the predictable themes of sex, drugs, and rock & roll without being overly salacious, tedious, or catty. It is an honest telling of a life in a specific genre of music while living a love in a boozy closet and then of joyous sobriety.
I was relieved to see what this book is not. It is not a tell-all. Halford settles no scores and seeks no unjust credit for his success. He writes about his bandmates in respectful terms. He is obviously comfortable with his own talent and he is generous with praise of the other members of Judas Priest. (I wish Keith Richards had taken this direction when he wrote his memoir.)
If there is one weakness of this book, it is that he writes about the other members of Priest in a style that is respectful but bland. They are not characters in this book and he clearly wants to avoid making any of them look bad, even when writing about some of the lineup changes and scandals that the band faced from time to time.
Let me explain that Judas Priest was my favorite band from the age of 12 to 14 or 15. They were my second concert. Over the years I grew away from Heavy Metal for the most part but the music you love when you are that age never really leaves you. Some of their songs hold up well and I've spent a fair amount of time listening to them even as an adult. But before this book I had not really read much about them since I stopped reading Hit Parader in 1989 other than a length GQ article from 1998 about the band after Rob had left it.
I. The Sex Parts.
As I read this book, it occurred to me that I had never read a memoir of a gay man before. I knew Rob was gay long before he came out publicly. People used to joke about it when I was a big Priest fan. That teasing was the only part that bothered me. I sort of assumed that the rest of the band knew all along too (they probably did) and that off-stage he could express himself freely. (He could not.)
Reading about his life in the closet was truly disturbing. He was 30 years old before he had a real relationship with a man. He writes about truck stops and glory holes, but not to be lurid or titillate the reader. This is what he had to resort to, even as a man of means. Even as someone living the ultimate rock and roll lifestyle. He eventually has some less than ideal relationships with men but spends most of his 30s pursing straight men who are not capable of loving him and one gets the sense that he probably didn't think he was worthy of being loved.
Rob is at pains not to blame the rest of the band for this fact but I have to say it disappointed me that they were also quiet about the subject. He attributes this to their working class north English stoicism but it's really hard to fathom. Eventually, of course he comes out, become a gay icon and meets the man of his dreams. His fans do not leave him when he does any of this, and that is the connective positivity that holds this story together.
II. The Drug Bits.
I don't usually like to read about the struggles of recovering addicts. The arc is predictable and the punchline is usually sanctimonious. But Rob describes his issues (primarily with alcohol, later with cocaine) in a way that is devoid of romance or machismo. This is the life of a sad alcoholic, not a party king. And the alcohol only makes the loneliness of the closet worse. Until he stops, rather suddenly. Once he does, he gets reengaged with is music.
III. The Metal of it All.
One really charming aspect of this book is how much Rob remains committed to the very specific field of heavy metal. He really is a zealot for it and he is unabashedly proudest of the music that is loudest and most intense. That is where I part way with him, albeit slightly.
You know when people ask you what celebrity would you most want to meet? I have at times said that mine is Rob Halford. And if I ever did meet him, it would be to ask him about one specific song, Dessert Plains.
Dessert Plains came out in 1981 and is on my favorite Judas Priest album, Point of Entry (1981). What I like about Dessert Plains is that it was the one song that even as a straight adolescent male, I just knew was written by a man singing about another man. I've pored over the lyrics and there's not an adjective or pronoun to give this away. It just feels like a song about a man. I've often wanted to tell Mr. Halford that this song made me understand that such feelings were as real to him as anything I could have felt for a girl or (later) a woman. It's an important song to my development for that exact reason.
Point of Entry is slightly softer than the bands that came just before and after it. Most Priest fans would probably say their favorite album was British Steel (1980) or Screaming for Vengenace (1982). But Point of Entry for me is the most delicate writing the band ever did. It's is poppy without being overly commercial and it is metal without the need to be faster than the other stuff on the market. Not every song works, but I sometimes day dream about a contemporary artist doing a song-for-song cover version of the album. Maybe this is the project that Lady Gaga and Rob can work on when they finally get together.
But Rob is not a big fan of Point of Entry. He thinks the band missed the mark and he dismisses Dessert Plains as one of the songs that is "just okay." Fair enough, Rob. But I do want you know that even when you missed the mark, you produced some really cool art. And I am glad that you are still here to be proud of all of it.
I don't usually like to read about the struggles of recovering addicts. The arc is predictable and the punchline is usually sanctimonious. But Rob describes his issues (primarily with alcohol, later with cocaine) in a way that is devoid of romance or machismo. This is the life of a sad alcoholic, not a party king. And the alcohol only makes the loneliness of the closet worse. Until he stops, rather suddenly. Once he does, he gets reengaged with is music.
III. The Metal of it All.
One really charming aspect of this book is how much Rob remains committed to the very specific field of heavy metal. He really is a zealot for it and he is unabashedly proudest of the music that is loudest and most intense. That is where I part way with him, albeit slightly.
You know when people ask you what celebrity would you most want to meet? I have at times said that mine is Rob Halford. And if I ever did meet him, it would be to ask him about one specific song, Dessert Plains.
Dessert Plains came out in 1981 and is on my favorite Judas Priest album, Point of Entry (1981). What I like about Dessert Plains is that it was the one song that even as a straight adolescent male, I just knew was written by a man singing about another man. I've pored over the lyrics and there's not an adjective or pronoun to give this away. It just feels like a song about a man. I've often wanted to tell Mr. Halford that this song made me understand that such feelings were as real to him as anything I could have felt for a girl or (later) a woman. It's an important song to my development for that exact reason.
Point of Entry is slightly softer than the bands that came just before and after it. Most Priest fans would probably say their favorite album was British Steel (1980) or Screaming for Vengenace (1982). But Point of Entry for me is the most delicate writing the band ever did. It's is poppy without being overly commercial and it is metal without the need to be faster than the other stuff on the market. Not every song works, but I sometimes day dream about a contemporary artist doing a song-for-song cover version of the album. Maybe this is the project that Lady Gaga and Rob can work on when they finally get together.
But Rob is not a big fan of Point of Entry. He thinks the band missed the mark and he dismisses Dessert Plains as one of the songs that is "just okay." Fair enough, Rob. But I do want you know that even when you missed the mark, you produced some really cool art. And I am glad that you are still here to be proud of all of it.
