Our Band Could Be Your Life Michael Azerrad Little, Brown & Co. 522 pp. $25.95 Available from Amazon

Our Band Could Be Your Life focuses only on the years that these bands spent on independent labels. While about half of the bands profiled spent their entire careers on independent labels, the coverage of the bands that eventually did defect (Hüsker Dü, the Replacements, Sonic Youth, Dinosaur Jr and Mudhoney) stops abruptly once the major-label contract enters the picture. Azerrad's rationale for this is quite simple: he wishes to focus on the mechanics of what made these pioneering indie bands function (or not) -- and once the major label came into the picture, the band's story changes entirely.

Probably the most interesting aspect of the book is the stories of the personalities in each of the bands, and how they contributed to the band's eventual success or failure. Regardless of whether or not you're interested in the story of a particular band, Azerrad has a way of making things interesting. He brings out the inherent interpersonal dramas that most of these bands exuded in spades, and shows the reader, through direct quotes from band members or from people close to the bands, many of the struggles and difficulties that these bands endured. Anyone who has ever tried to make a band work for any extended period of time will recognize many of the problems that most of these bands went through. As one might expect, most of the problems occur when heavy drug use, interpersonal difficulties, a cramped van and no money are combined. For the most part, bands who abstained from heavy drug use either seemed to split amicably (Mission of Burma, Minor Threat), or are still going at it today (Fugazi, Sonic Youth). On the flip side, bands who did indulge in heavy drug usage, such as Hüsker Dü and The Replacements, had a much harder time keeping it together towards the end of their respective careers, and found that interpersonal difficulties were only magnified when drugs came into the picture. Then there's the megalomaniac frontman syndrome, which, historically speaking, has probably been the number one band killer of all time. To varying degrees, Black Flag, The Replacements and Dinosaur Jr all fell victim to this (Dinosaur Jr is only still around as a virtual J. Mascis solo project. Now that he's realized that he can release rockin' stuff under his own name as well, one wonders if the Dino Jr name will finally be put to rest). Then there are bands like the Butthole Surfers, who, despite all the heavy drug usage you can possibly imagine, megalomaniac frontman syndrome and various other interpersonal difficulties and extreme poverty throughout most of their career, are still kicking around. Sure, their last record was a total piece of garbage...but hey, who's counting.

The main thing that emerges from this book is a great sense of the bonds that held these bands together. They were among the only bands out there making their sort of music at the time, which meant that three bands with such totally disparate styles as Black Flag, The Minutemen and Hüsker Dü could not only be known to share the same stage, but also the same label (SST). A distinct chronology emerges, as well. There were the trailblazers, such as Black Flag and the Minutemen, who were literally the first punk bands to put out their own records and subsequently get in a van with no money and very few connections, and just go for it, touring the country and playing wherever they could get a show lined up -- basements, teen centers, squats, abandoned supermarkets, whatever. Then there were bands who came up a little later, and had seen what those trailblazing bands had started to do, and therefore had a slightly better idea of how to go about things -- but still had a pretty rough time of it. By the time Sub Pop records started in the then-podunk city of Seattle, the blueprint had pretty much been laid out for how to do it, and bands like Mudhoney simply needed to exist; there was already a framework in place to support them. As far as that band goes, even its members concede that they pretty much blew their wad with their debut single ("Touch Me I'm Sick" b/w "Sweet Young Thing Ain't Sweet No More"), after which came a slow downhill slide into mediocrity. Despite this, they still managed to snag a major-label contract a few years into the downhill slide. Then, of course, there were the odd-duck bands like Mission of Burma, who, despite massive local acclaim, couldn't ever quite make it out of their hometown. By the time the movement caught up with them, they had already broken up.

Perhaps the only negative thing I can say about this book concerns Azerrad's epilogue, in which he indulges in an all-too-typical rant about the post-Nevermind independent music scene. According to him, the indie community and indie music can never be the same as it was "back in the day", and there will never be such feeling of camaraderie among bands again. In 1984, I was an extremely un-hip eight-year-old who didn't know Minor Threat from a hole in the ground, despite the fact that I lived just outside of DC. Does that invalidate some of the amazing experiences that I've had with indie rock in the year 2000 and beyond? I certainly hope not. Naturally, had I lived through the '80s indie rock explosion as a music fan, I would probably take a similar stance as Azerrad, thinking that things won't ever be quite the same again. However, the fact that the indie scene has splintered into various factions shouldn't denigrate any of those factions. Sure, the nationwide scene is not nearly as tightly-knit as it was ten or fifteen years ago. Sure, a lot independent music has been co-opted by the mainstream. You can't expect things to stay as they are for such a long period of time -- that's called stagnation. Scenes develop and grow, and sometimes get a bit out of control. However, in practically any town of any stature that you care to name, there's going to be some new local band that sprung up over the last year or so, who will be eminently capable of blowing your balls off on any given night. Nothing's changed about that, except for the fact that there are far more bands out there going for it these days -- thanks to the roads paved by the bands featured in this book.

It would hardly be an overstatement to say that Our Band Could Be Your Life (the title of which, incidentally, is a quote from a Minutemen song) should be required reading for anyone who considers him/herself a serious indie rock fan. The stories of the bands are by turns inspiring, disgusting, amazing and disappointing. Even if you're only familiar with one or two of the bands covered, I guarantee that you'll find yourself highly entertained by most of the other bands' stories. Azerrad's writing style sucks you in and makes you care about band members as if you actually knew them; when I read of D. Boon's death in the chapter on the Minutemen, I seriously got choked up, and it's not like I'm a big fan or anything. This is not to say that Azerrad's objective perspective is compromised in any way; he merely presents the facts in a way that makes the reader empathize with the bands. Every band emerges with a distinct personality (Black Flag = a buncha pricks. Minutemen = seriously good-natured guys. Big Black = overly intellectual pranksters. The Replacements = drunken buffoons); some are just what your preconceived notions would lead you to believe, some are totally different. All are essential reading.

-- Jeremy Schneyer