This is the year of Chuck Berry, a man who has been instrumental in shaping rock ‘n’ roll as we know it. Not only has America been given Hail! Hail! Rock and Roll! to provide a motion-picture accounting of Berry’s talent and a document of his 60th birthday/concert, there is this volume from Berry’s own hand to tell the story of a man who’s enigmatic at best.
no cutline
While the movie proved to lack depth in dealing with who Chuck Berry is, Autobiography gets in there and deals with the nitty-gritty. The only drawback is that, since it comes directly from Berry, many facts surrounding his three stints in jail could easily have been manipulated.
Still, Berry’s viewpoint is intriguing. Long known as a man with an eye on the bottom line, it may come as a shock to people who’ve grown up on songs such as Roll Over Beethoven, Johnny B. Goode, Little Queenie and Memphis were cranked out in much the same fashion as a car on an assembly line.
To Berry, turning out songs was a job like any other. If anything Autobiography dismisses the notion that there actually might be deeper meaning to the teen anthems that have gone on to become classics.
Consequently, it should come as no surprise to find that Berry also spends a fair amount of the story talking about his exploits with members of the opposite sex. While it might be relevant if these women were the basis for his inspiration, these liaisons never seem to have any bearing on Chuck Berry, the musician.
In fact, it raises certain questions: If someone is known and loved for their music, how important are their extraneous relationships? Do we really need to know about Berry’s involvement with a Houston socialite, or any other woman, for that matter? This becomes even more questionable when the origins of many of his most popular songs are dealt with perfunctorily in one chapter.
On a straight musical plane, Autobiography is a fairly unsatisfying volume. The delicious recollections of jam sessions and musical get-togethers aren’t a part of this book.
Given that Berry’s reputation among industry people borders on mercenary, it should come as no surprise that the music isn’t a central point here. Music is Berry’s livelihood and that doesn’t necessarily equate to being someone’s life.
And yet, as a book that examines one man’s triumphs over prejudice and an industry that was set up to exploit the black musicians who pioneered rock ‘n’ roll, Autobiography presents a first-person account of how it really was. Berry writes of seeing two other names (including Allen Freed’s) attached to his first hit, Maybelline — even though he was the song’s sole author.
Writing in his own vernacular, Berry explains why he “swallowed” somewhat inadequate explanations and continued. But even more importantly, he writes of overcoming these things and becoming a businessman.
Although the book is not the work of a professional writer, it moves easily, providing an enjoyable read for whoever might pick it up: fan, historian or merely someone curious about the man, the music or the way it is.
The shortcomings can be dismissed as vanity, ego or, perhaps, Berry’s own lack of understanding about how important his music really is. To him, the songs were something cranked out so new records could be made, nothing more; so, it’s feasible that he didn’t want to bore readers with something he thought was uninteresting.
