Not just any book, of course. I had a specific one in mind. I decided that I would write a history and critical analysis of industrial music.
I was beyond enthusiastic about my idea. I knew I had what it would take-- the skills as a writer and editor, the background in academic writing, the attention to detail and passion needed to research, research, research. I had connections in the genre that would allow me access to firsthand accounts and guidance along the way. And I had the childlike curiosity of an explorer as well as the mature yearning-to-devour-everything-in-understanding mindset that would fuel me forward even when I hit the rough patches a project like this would inevitably propel me into. I settled into the knowledge that much of my free time would be devoted to this endeavor for years to come, and that it would certainly mean putting my poetry on the backburner. But the outcome would be worth it; it would be a transformational journey that would provide me personally with a much more inclusive and complete understanding of the music which has become my life. It would also provide a service to the scene that has taken me in and nurtured me, given me the life I always imagined I could have, because there was nothing else out there that would compare. I know because I even started on some extremely preliminary research to see what I could find. This book was begging to be done.
I kept the book in the back of my mind, simmering, for a couple of weeks. I needed to bring it to a boil, and I finally let my best friends C. and D., as well as my mother, in on it. All three were enormously supportive and just as excited as I was. The next step was to contact my friend J., who I imagined would be a guiding light throughout the project as he was chock-full of the experiences, knowledge, friendships, emotions, ideas, and opinions that would lead me on my path.
J. and I walked away from the group of our friends when I mentioned that I had an idea I'd like to run by him privately. I still wasn't ready to make the proposal public for fear that someone else might undertake it first. In fact, I was shocked that no one had come up with such an obvious book idea previously. There are tons of published critical and encyclopedic books about specialty music, lifestyles, and interests. In high school, I poured over Sound of the Beast: The Complete History of Heavy Metal because I wanted to know from whence came the music which, at that time, pervaded and empowered my life. I was also interviewed via e-mail by author Nancy Kilpatrick and subsequently quoted in her publication The Goth Bible: A Compendium for the Darkly Inclined, an informational and positive book written lovingly by a member of the goth subculture for those otherwise inundated with the stereotypes perpetuated by the media. (You can find my quotes attributed to one of my pseudonyms, XjUsTcRuCifyX. I was only 16, but most of what I said still applies to my outlook today, over ten years later.)
Though J. was also extremely supportive and willing to help with my project however he could, he unwittingly crushed my dreams that night. He asked if I had ever heard of such a book before, because he had been contacted by a writer who interviewed him for one that sounded similar. He was certain it had been released already, but he wasn't sure. When I went home that night, I performed a quick Google search (which, if you remember, I had already done once). The top result had changed. It was now a link to a book that would be released in June 2013, a book with a description that made it apparent I'd missed my chance, just barely, because it had already been done. I felt like I had lost out on perhaps the greatest idea I'd ever had.
I was also egotistical enough to consider that perhaps the book wouldn't be the same book I was planning to write, that maybe the author wasn't the right person for the task and it had turned into something of a disaster. Maybe there was still room for my own book, a better book, a book which would tear down this upcoming release by someone named S. Alexander Reed. Surely he didn't have the background, the critical and academically analytical mind I contained, which I was planning on focusing into the project. Surely he wasn't equipped with the same level of passion and emersion into the music which was my experience, which would take my book to the next level. Then it dawned on me.
Oh yeah.
S. Alexander Reed, Ph.D. Professor of music, University of Florida. Vocalist and musician in the now-defunct industrial band ThouShaltNot (who, by the way, I love).
Not only did Reed obviously have the necessary experience and passion to write the book I imagined, he inarguably had a shit-ton more experience than I did, both academically and esoterically. He had everything the author of my preferred book had, which I thought I had, but moreso. And I accepted that if I couldn't write it, the right person had, and I would undertake the task of being his eager, impressionable student.
In the middle of June, Eide's Entertainment stocked an extremely limited supply of S. Alexander Reed's Assimilate: A Critical History of Industrial Music, published by the renowned Oxford University Press.
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| Cover image obtained from Storming the Base. |
D. purchased a copy and brought it to dinner one night at my request. I wanted to hold it, flip through it, see what it consisted of, if it was up to my admittedly high standards. Upon seeing the grin on my face as I finished reading the synopsis on the back cover, D. offered to let me borrow the book until I got my own. I was ecstatic, and told him that I would read this book with the inquisitive and critical mind of the former graduate student that I was. He asked if I was the type of person who would highlight and make notes in the margins. I told him I was, but wouldn't do so in his copy of the book. He made me a deal that I could keep this copy if I gave him the copy I purchased when it arrived. He knew I was dying of anticipation, ready to embark on my academic study of the music which changed my life all of those years ago. Grateful, I wholeheartedly accepted.
In my attempt to undertake a serious, academic, critical study of Reed's text, I decided I should give myself some homework (what a great self-teacher I am!). I wanted to ensure that I wouldn't rush through the book but would rather read it deliberately, absorbing the information it provided and opening a dialogue with it. What better way to do so than to write reflection/response pieces after reading? Which brings me here.
I am going to read the book in small chunks, digestable sections and write a post after each one. I will take the time to listen to the recommended playlists and do further research where necessary. I will even attempt to obtain the listed sources and devour them, as well. I know, I know. It sounds obsessive and time-consuming. It is. Only someone with this obsession would even consider writing the book in the first place!
I anticipate many changes in my perspective on the music I love. I am sure I will learn information which I had never know before. I will be led to consider much which might elicit both positive and negative feelings within me, and I will be forced to examine that which I had not before. Sometimes I'm sure I'll want to fight with Reed. Other times I will do nothing more than nod my head in awed acceptance. I must remain aware that Reed's work is not the bible and I will need to critically consume it rather than blindly accept it as gospel, though that alone will be difficult. Already, I have seen discussions about the text which show that it may be undermined on certain points, but aren't all "authoritative texts" flawed in one way or another, depending on your perspective? I imagine it is good news when people are already preying on the work, meaning it has ruffled feathers and hurt egos-- exactly the way my book would have done had I written it. And, to balance it, there are also conversations showing people discovering that what they thought was inaccurate is actually truth, such as this extremely interesting, insightful, and entertaining one.
I intend to capture the whole journey on this blog. Instead of merely reviewing Assimilate, I will make the reading of Reed's work my personal industrial education. And you can come along.
