Post a comment

Private comment

Wouldn't he be too old for King?

Jonathan King abducted him and took him to the moon where he was eaten by desperate one-hit wonders?

Re: When will they e-e-ever learn?


our legends tell
we came from a seed
that travelled at
a whirl-wind speed
till it came to rest
upon this land
that once was green
is now all sand;

that buried us
up to our eyes
and made us watchers
of the skies:
till shadow-wings
came for our sight
and left us to
conspire with night.


Re: Don't knock it "til you"ve tried it!

From Amazon reviews of Jeffrey Lee Pierce's auto-bio & miscellanea, Go Tell the Mountain: The Lyrics and Writings of Jeffrey Lee Pierce:

2.0 out of 5 stars what was Henry Rollins thinking?, July 31, 2001

I received this book to review for a zine I write for, and it was so bad i told the publisher it wasn't worth reviewing. pierce was grandiose at best and just plain crazy at the end, and it really shows here in the jumbled structure and absolute inanity of much of what is included. I was pretty grossed out by his attitude toward women, too. His obsession about all things Japanese was also really tedious. And I LIKED the Gun Club. Reading this book made me think of the book & movie "Being There", in which the main character speaks only in slogans he's heard from television, and those who meet him think he's a genius. What were you thinking, Henry?

3.0 out of 5 stars Signifying his own monkey to the end..., January 28, 2000

...I really had no idea what to expect from this: Rollins & co. marketed the hell out of it, and certainly that was within their rights, having kept JLP going, to a certain extent, during his last year. But, reading about his sordid end -- cirhottic, hepatitic and HIV+ -- and the aneurysm that killed him in his 30s -- and constrasting that with the utter denial of all that in his writings (which makes you ask yourself: what the hell would I do?) -- you get an unbelievably human portrait of a very flawed, wheedling, obsessive, paranoid man, highly intelligent (though not quite as brilliant as he seems to want us to believe) and not particularly favored by Luck. Often his attitude's like he won the Sh#t Lottery -- took the fall for everyone -- everything that possibly could have gone wrong did in fact go wrong, praise be the auspices of Fate, and you are your own worst nightmare coming true... Poor, poor dogsbody... I go back and listen to all the albums now and can't believe how right-as-rain he was all the way up to the end -- but as for the book, it's -- not pretty. Pierce probably had it in him to be a decent prose writer, but it hardly shows here. For the most part, his braggadocio fails to stray from traditional Toastmaster lines (already a fundament of those same sources Pierce had always worked from) -- punctuated by weepy thickets of self-pity and bold-faced omissions, one begins to get a feeling for the kind of presence JLP must have been. Charismatic, whiny and difficult; stubborn, brilliant, and an incurable seeker of chemical oblivions. The only part of the story that's really clear is when he cleans up in London and is first living with Romi. The end of the story is just pathetic -- he must have been out of his head, surely, but it takes a lot of something to produce so total a state of confusion regarding one's own skin color and racial origins: no, Jeffrey, you are not an African. Sorry. 20 years ago, when it it still possessed a modicum of shock value, you were real apt at dropping the word "niggger" when it both suited and undermined a song's purpose, but -- from that nonsense onto the name-dropping, this star, that star, Johnny Depp, Eye-san, etc. -- and then finally tying things up with that awful 'erotic' story about "Jim." The prose half of the book ends on such a maudlin, pathetic note -- which is, in its own way, appropriate. He came to a tragic, pathetic end. No-one/-thing stepped in and saved him. Fate turned it's back: rot, sucker. I've had friends like that and it sucks. Watching's like having a hole chewed in your guts. Whatever. The first half of the book comes to an abrupt anti-end.
I was noncomittal about the second half of the book; I guess the lyrics are nice to have; a lot of the later songs are really hard to understand.
Help other customers find the most helpful reviews

2.0 out of 5 stars the fire of love is just smoke without the music, December 17, 1999

This book looks great in your hands or on the shelf, but looks aren't everything. JLP wasn't much of a prose writer. His narratives ramble and falter regularly. The stories he has to tell are worth hearing. I really wish he had had a friend who had some talent in this medium to help him out. The second half of the book is just lyrics, and, as far as a read goes, that makes the back half of the book invisible. He was an interesting man. He led an interesting life & his death was certainly premature. This book is necessary for hardcore Gun Club fans. There is information, background, and anecdotes here that will complete the picture for you. If, however, your interest in the Gun Club is merely casual or non-existant, then don't bother. I wanted to know more about Pierce and the creation of Fire Of Love, and now I do. Unfortunately, one of the things I now know is that JLP was very deserving of a biography, rather than an autobiography. This book isn't terrible & I am not sorry I bought it, but I wouldn't recommend it. This one seems to've missed the vein!

2.0 out of 5 stars "Too Much Ocean", January 14, 1999

Well, I had waited with great anticipation for this one. had some hardcore blues many nights thinking about jeffrey lee pierce after he died. but there's nothing there, man. The lyrics without the songs behind them carry so much less power. It's surprising to see how vague and imcomplete they feel when read. Most read like one offs, not the powerful statements you hear on the records. And yet, it's great to have them. The power, the book proves, is in the music of the Gun Club . . . the presentation, the fierce heart . . .but the heart, the book shows, was inarticulate in most ways outside the music. It's a one-day read, really slight. It rambles. It's juvenile, high schoolish. There is some insight into the punk chaos (you had to be there to know Pierce hits this chord right), but is that enough? Just not a lot of book here, I'm afraid. For the most faithful of the faithful. Everyone else, please, buy the records.

A Whisper and a Byword

I read that years ago. Bought it in a charity shop. It is pretty much unreadable. What comes through though, is the impression that Japanese birds will drive you "round the twist". Granted JLP was halfway home on that front. But he did write "your ghost on the highway, your gestures meaningless. I hate you but i love you. Trailing souls to the end". So he wasn't all bad.

Rollins. Well he's a typical yid. I'd speculate that he's in the closet. A sort of Rob Halford of punkbossanova.



Re: A Whisper and a Byword

You should stop posting your email address online here. It's not necessary in order to comment. The system is set up by FC2, not me. I've deleted your previous comments in which you posted your email address.

Why bother, when, just like your perfidious friend, you don't even respond to emails?

For your ego, I herewith preserve and present your previous words of wisdom, of a sort:

"Don't knock it "til you"ve tried it!

"Anyway. Things ok with you and yours since last we gaily strolledl down Mordechai lane? Hope so."






"Louvin tried and knocked:


"If we forget God, Satan will rule.
"If we forget God, our nation will be jewed."


"Hahahaha! What are they like?

"Birds eh? A good shot though !I see from that link an elephant has trampled four in Assam, and Alvin Bergman is nearly half way there. Nothing changes.

"Yup. It's all fun and games "til the "Auschwitz Eagle, Bear cage" is rolled out. Nobody wins after that.

"When will they ever learn? When will they e-e-ver learn?"

"And to cap it all, the apostrophe has given up the ghost on this modern times monstrosity.

"Sisyphus Shmisyphus!

"He's nowt."



Re: A Whisper and a Byword


Was just advising not to expend time or shekels reading his scribblings, but since you already have....

Most songwriters can't write prose, which is why they ended up singing-songwriting in the first place. And the vice is versa?

Also, while I appreciate a bit of grungy shuffling shouty scrabbling bloozpunk as much as the next slob, I'm a bit weary of life's "losers" --burn outs, suicides, druggies, alcoholics, bad-childhood-story-o-types etc. A few more inspirational stories wouldn't go amiss. Real Survivors (not the kikey kind). I'm tired of the JLPs, Syds and Sids.

That's why I recently posted some videos etc of people like Roky Erikson, Randy Bachman, Tommy Shaw, Peter Greenbaum.

Erikson could have been written off years ago, OD'd, been electroshocked into idiocy, homeless. All things considered, he's "doing well". Playing music, has friends and supporters and family, has Billy Gibbons show up to help support him onstage, travels to Europe and around America, seems happy.

Shaw was a mega poprock star. Quit Styx coz he couldn't stand it. Not just played in bars, but a couple of months after playing stadiums was performing at high school dances! He obviously just loves and just wants to play music. Now performs in small halls and at casinos, which a lot of people end up being forced to do out of desperation, cynically. But he just loves playing, appreciates all fans.

Bachman quit The Guess Who a couple of months after American Woman was number one with a bullet. Quit because he missed his kids and was sick of hanging out with stoners who constantly made fun of him because he doesn't smoke or drink. A couple of weeks later he too was playing at high school dances to pay the rent. He's not a great guitarist or singer or songwriter, but he keeps going on, lucking out with a few riffs and catchy phrases. Now he has a home studio, a good house/farm, a radio show, more guitars than Nigel Tuffnal, and 21 grandchildren.

Greenbaum's screwed up, and was unfortunate enough to have been born kike; but h's tried to put kikery behind him, and is doing what he wanted to do -- just play guitar.

There's a place for the JLPs of the world, but right now I'm looking for people who manage to beat The Kike in The Kike's Biz.

Re: A Whisper and a Byword

Tommy Shaw:

Give me a job give me security
Give me a chance to survive
I'm just a poor soul in the unemployment line
My God I'm hardly alive

My mother and father, my wife and my friends
You've seen them laugh in my face
But I've got the power and I've got the will
I'm not a charity case


Paradise - can it be all I heard it was?
I close my eyes and maybe I'm already there


Comment is pending approval.

Comment is pending blog author's approval.



Search form
Latest Journals
Latest comments
Monthly archive
Friend Request Form

Want to be friends with this user.