This book is down-to-earth and unflashy. It adopts a simple narrative style and delivers its facts in a no-nonsense, easily accessible way. All of that seems exactly right for the biography of a musician who always kept it simple and let his music do the talking. At just 214 pages, including the index and 8 pages of photos, it’s not a long read, but everything is there, and often in considerable detail. It’s a beautifully lean and concise piece of writing from Australian writer Jeff Apter, who has written more than 30 books, either as author, co-writer or ghostwriter, with his work published all around the world. Those works have included biographies of significant artists such as Carl Perkins, Jeff Buckley, Neil Finn, and Malcolm Young, among others, and now, in Roy Orbison, he has turned his attention to one of the giants of the early rock and roll years.
It’s a brave choice. Many of us who are fans of the great man and his music feel like we know Roy. He’s one of those artists that you feel has always been around; we grew up listening to him, and many think of him more as that cool older brother than some sort of superstar. The fact is, many of us know exactly why George Harrison, Bob Dylan, Tom Petty and Jeff Lynn were so over the moon when Roy Orbison joined their Wilburys project because, well, who wouldn’t be?! It takes a delicate touch to handle the biography of such a well-regarded artist, and I’m pleased to say, Apter pulls it off with aplomb.
I particularly enjoyed the section on his earlier life and getting established as an artist. Again, it comes back to this feeling that you know the artist and, while we always think of Roy Orbison as being something of a gentle soul, it’s interesting to read about his determination when it came to his musical vision and his refusal to be ignored by the early gatekeepers of the rock business. It’s particularly fascinating to read how badly Sam Phillips, at Sun Records, failed to appreciate Orbison’s talent and ability to write and produce dark ballads. Phillips had first signed Orbison with his band, the Teen Kings, and he constantly pushed Orbison towards rockabilly songs, which he felt was what his record company was all about. As a result, Orbison would leave Sun to write for RCA, before signing as a recording artist with Monument, and Sam Phillips would miss out on some of the biggest recordings of Roy Orbison’s early career. What comes out time and again in this biography is Orbison’s determination and belief in his own ability, particularly as a songwriter. He knew his dark ballads were against the run of commercial releases at the time, but he equally knew they would resonate with a young audience, who all had their own insecurities and worries about the transition from teen to adult. Songs like Crying and Only The Lonely were tailor-made for a young audience who, on the surface, radiated the confidence and swagger of America in the post-war years, but who, behind that veneer, were worried for their future.
The early part of the book is all quite upbeat as Orbison pursues his dreams and builds his career. There are some particularly enjoyable anecdotes about his first visits to the UK and sharing the tour with The Beatles, and it’s a nice insight into what touring was all about at that time (Orbison’s set, as headliner, was just six songs!). As the book progresses, the tone gets darker. There’s the inevitable downturn in his career as the new generation of musicians comes through, led by the ‘British Invasion’, but even as his career is faltering, there’s the strength of his relationship with Claudette Frady, for whom he wrote the song, Claudette, a big hit for the Everly Brothers. Apter handles the depth of this relationship particularly well, and you’re left in no doubt of her importance to him. Their relationship had its ups and downs, including divorce and remarriage, but they had been together since their teens and family was central to Orbison’s life, despite the fact he was frequently away from it; as his later records failed to sell, his only means of earning was almost continuous touring. In 1966, Claudette was killed in a motorcycle accident as they were driving home on separate motorcycles; she was just 25 years old. Just two years later, while Orbison was on tour in the UK, his house burned down, killing his two eldest sons. The book makes it clear that Claudette’s death had a big impact on Orbison, but he also had a family to feed, and it’s in this period that he starts work on his one and only film, The Fastest Guitar Alive, playing a “happy go lucky guitar playing soldier“. Not surprisingly, given the grief he was carrying, he failed to convince in the role, and the film was a flop. Apter notes that Orbison was still a major draw in the UK and, with work not going well in the States, he opts for a UK tour which is going down extremely well, and that’s when the fire occurs at his home in the U.S. While this is a particularly bleak section of the book, it’s quietly well written. We get Orbison’s own first reactions to the news, but also the observations of the Gallatin Fire Chief who attended the fire, and some of the news reportage around the events at the time. Then, slowly the narrative returns to Orbison and his attempts to rebuild his life, both emotionally and professionally. The writer makes it clear that, emotionally, Orbison is a broken man, but his work, and his family, now with a new wife and children and the support of good friends, slowly helps him to move on.
In many ways, it’s the latter part of the book that is the most enjoyable. We read about his rediscovery by a younger audience, after some years of falling record sales, the use of In Dreams in David Lynch’s erotic noir thriller Blue Velvet, which introduces him to a whole new audience, leading to a new recording contract, writing with the likes of Rodney Crowell and ex Sex Pistol Steve Jones, working with Rick Rubin and the making of the outstanding concert video, Roy Orbison and Friends: A Black and White Night, an idea conceived by Orbison’s second wife, Barbara, who had assumed management of his career in the early 80s and deserves much of the credit for his renaissance. And then, of course, there’s the Wilburys. If you’re a fan of Orbison, you’ll know the story of how the Travelling Wilburys came together, but Apter tells is beautifully and with some lovely touches, like George Harrison’s thoughts while writing Handle With Care; “If Roy Orbison’s going to come (he’d initially asked just to come along and watch the session), it’s silly to have him just sitting there. He’s a better singer than anybody“. And Tom Petty’s quote after Orbison had agreed to join the band: “All the way home we were going, ‘Roy Orbison’s in our band!’ I don’t think we ever got over it“.
This is a great book about a truly great artist. It neatly documents his rise and fall and rise again, suitably crediting the main protagonists along the way; it recounts the moments of darkest tragedy but doesn’t dwell on them, moving the narrative along in much the way that Orbison himself managed to move on. It recognises the depth of Roy Orbison’s talent and his dedication to his chosen profession. Orbison just wanted to be a singer and to get his songs out to the widest possible audience, and that determination to be true to himself shines through in this book. The penultimate paragraph inevitably stays with you: “Just before he died, Roy had been asked how he’d like to be remembered. He chewed it over for a minute before replying: One day, when they are mentioning people who had an impact, if they just mention me among the rest of the guys and gals, it would be great.”
This book is a beautiful read.
