
I'm not gonna lie. I'm already disappointed in this book.
A couple of years ago, I was watching an interview with Robbie where he mentioned that one of his projects was to write a book. I thought, "Awesome! I can't wait! An autobiography!" I wanted to hear all about The Band, his wild young life, his famous friendships with the likes of Martin Scorsese and Gary Busey. I wanted to know about his marriage to Dominique, what happened when it was over. I wanted to know about his First Nations family, and how and why it was virtually non-existent during his Band years, but became completely public after the Band broke apart. I wanted to know about his transition from the stage in arenas with live music to the studios creating film scores. I wanted
allllll of Robbie. No stone left unturned.
But I was reading the description of the book and find it's co written by other "veterans" Jim Guerinot and Jared Levine (umm,
who are they?) and his
son Sebastian Robertson, who may be involved in music, sure, but by no means is a 'veteran'! None of these guys, as writers even have credit anywhere else for any other book they've written or co-written. Google them. Go ahead. I did. Not much on Jim and Jared, and Sebastian's claim to fame is that he's simply Robbie's son. What's more, the book is about
other musicians and Robertson's relationship with them, perhaps describing influences if nothing less? Not to knock Bob Dylan, Ray Charles, Johnny Cash, and whoever else. Sure, they're legends. But dammit, there are well enough books solely dedicated as biographies in their own right about these famous people. Why would I read a book by Robbie
about someone else? I want Robbie to tell me about
Robbie.
I'm pissed off.
128 pages?
This is obviously not an autobiography. It's as if Robbie needed to put out something, maybe under pressure, and when it came right down to it, it's a project only he would allow to go public, which includes more about other people in his story-telling fashion (which, of course, he excels at, and why I love him so much). But honestly, I wanted Robbie. I wanted his story and to read it from the beginning during his (as Ronnie Hawkins put it once) "hubcap stealing days" to now, as a man who has been through it all -- music, fame, marriage, divorce, films, acting, fatherhood, loss, friendship, and everything in between.
I will likely be seen at my local bookstore on October 8th standing at the shelf thumbing through the pages hoping to enjoy some sexy Robbie pictures playing guitar because I really am not convinced that this is anything like the book I had envisioned him getting published.
At 70 years old, I only hope that Robbie outlive Garth to give himself more time to properly write an autobiography.
I don't mean for this to sound so harsh. But I have waited decades for Robbie to tell his story, only because I love and respect his music so much and find him personally so interesting. To get a short book like this about other people, with three virtually unknown co-writers to me, is a disappointment already.