Jeff Apter Interview

Based in Australia, Jeff Apter has written definitive biographies of The Cure, Silverchair, Red Hot Chilli Peppers and his forthcoming book is a biography of the late Jeff Buckley. He is also an experienced journalist and editor. Visit www.jeffapter.co.au for further details on his work.

 

You’ve penned quite a few biographies now, which one has been the most difficult to write?

I think that my first book, a biography of Silverchair, was the hardest, mainly because I didn’t really know what I was doing. In the end I was saved by an excellent copy editor, who, like a top mechanic, stripped the book down and rebuilt it while holding my hand, so to speak. As far as emotional input goes, my upcoming book on Jeff Buckley was pretty hard, firstly because I was writing about someone who died way too young and also because two people who helped me considerably at the start of my career died while I was writing the book. Too much death, in short.

 

What sort of timescale do you have to write a book?

While I’m writing, I like to work every day and set myself a target of 1000 words per day. That means I’m writing non-stop for about three months. But with interviews, research, travel, etc, I’m usually working on any one project for six months. I also try and not take on any other work in that time, bottom line permitting. But the evolution of some books, from the original idea through to the published book, can often take years — I’ve recently finished work on a book that was two years in the making and am chewing over another project that I’ve been kicking around since 2002.

 

Can you give me a brief history of your writing career?

I started out writing for Sydney street press at the end of the 1980s and then progressed to a staff job at Australian Rolling Stone, where I stayed for almost five years. Just prior to that I’d lived and worked in the USA for a couple of years, which was great. While there I met and interviewed Robbie Robertson, Aretha Franklin, Frank Black, Patti Smith, Lucinda Williams, Chris Whitley — some real musical heroes of mine. I think that was an important stretch for my development as a writer. Apart from a diploma in Publishing and Editing, and a half-arsed stab at an English Lit degree, I don’t have any formal qualifications. How do you train someone to write, anyway? Apart from a solid grasp of the basics of style, and a genuine interest in words and reading, the rest should come from within, so to speak.

 

Why did you begin writing about music in the first place?

I always wanted to write — from an early age I knew that was the one thing I could do well — but I also loved music and pop culture. It took me some time to work out that there was a way to put the two together.

 

How easy/difficult is it to get your ideas commissioned?

Initially it was as tough as anyone starting out who didn’t have a track record. But thanks to a few supportive editors (especially Chris Charlesworth at Omnibus and some good people here at Random House) I’ve been able to pretty much find a market for most of my book pitches. But I also pitch topics that I know have some commercial potential; as much as I’d love to write about Todd Rundgren and Lou Reed, those books have been done and I’m probably not the guy to write them, anyway. Being pragmatic is really important.

 

What sort of feedback – if any – have you had from the artists you’ve written about?

Because I’ve written a mix of authorised and unauthorised books, it obviously varies. Those who have had input and some control of a book loved the end result, of course, but with those types of books I’m really a writer-for-hire, rather than a ‘serious’ biographer. I did have a funny encounter with the drummer of Silverchair. After my first book on the band was published — and they did help with the bio — we met on the street and he was very chilly. Strange, I thought, and kept walking. Then I found out that an editorial error in the book had him referred to as the band’s bassist. When I asked him to sign my updated version of the book, he wrote: ‘Ben — drums / bass.’ Smartarse. Typically, though, you get no feedback, even though I ensure that copies are sent to the management of each act I write about. Most big acts want total control over any project that features their name, and surrendering that control usually diminishes the quality of the work. My first stop, as soon as I start work on a project, is to approach the subject’s family and management and let them know of my plans. Sometimes they say, ‘Great, how can I help?’, other times they say nothing at all. To be totally honest, though, I’m more interested in the response from those who read (and hopefully buy) my books.

 

What is it (a special ingredient?) that makes a good rock bio?

When I was working on the Jeff Buckley book, a quite famous publicist named Danny Fields, who was close to both Jeff and his father Tim, said to me: ‘Don’t worry too much about the facts, just make it a good read, OK?’ While I’d like to think I’m way too professional (and responsible) to muck about with the facts, a book still has to flow; you want the reader to ask: ‘What happens next?’ It’s essential to pick a subject with a story that won’t just appeal to music fans, but all readers.

 

What are your favourite rock books?

I’ve just re-read Larry ‘Ratso’ Sloman’s On The Road With Bob Dylan, which I love, and also recently finished Tony Visconti’s Bowie, Bolan And The Brooklyn Boy, which was written with real honesty and insight. The Neil Young bio Shakey is monumental, a genuinely great book, as is Danny Sugerman’s Wonderland Avenue. All great stories, well told. I’ll read anything on Dylan, even the screwy ramblings of the ‘Dylanologist’ who would leaf through the Bobfather’s garbage searching for clues to his genius. Away from music, I’m a huge admirer of novelists Richard Ford and Graham Swift.

 

It’s obvious that you prefer “alternative rock;” what is it that interests you about artists like Silverchair and The Cure?

Funnily enough, I’m not totally the ‘alt-rock’ guy. I picked some of my subjects because I knew their work well, having spent the key part of my journalism career documenting their careers, but at any given time (right now, in fact) you’re as likely to hear Bob Dylan, Steve Reich and Joni Mitchell played in my office as you are the subjects about whom I write. Don’t get me wrong — I genuinely respect and admire the music and success of my subjects — but my tastes are broader than the one genre where most of my books focus. I’ve also written non-fiction studies that aren’t about music, so I’d like to think I’m a biographer with a special interest in pop culture rather than a ‘music writer’. But I do tend to write about what I know. What interests me are the same, simple things: How did they get big? Who helped them behind the scenes? What price did they pay? How did they react when they become stars? Was it worth the pain?

 

Do you think readers and critics are ignorant of “unauthorised” books? Is it important for the artists to be involved?

From my experience, artists can get a tad paranoid and intrusive; they tend to think ‘what will be exposed about me?’ rather than ‘great, someone’s deemed me worthy of a book.’ I rarely read authorised books, to be honest. I’m always wary when a blurb celebrates how a writer is an insider or someone’s best friend; to me that typically distorts their view. I think as far as readers are concerned, they don’t mind one way or the other: if the book is well written, interesting and (hopefully) accurate, why should they give a toss if it’s authorised or not? Nobody asks those questions of writers who document the lives of long dead historical figures, do they? Imagine that: ‘Oh, hang on, Shakespeare didn’t sign off on that book, did he? Must be rubbish.’ I truly think this attitude comes more from the people who review books than those who read them, and they’re not my target audience.

 

How important is it for a non-fiction writer to have a literary agent?

I think that unless you know how a contract works and totally understand your ‘market worth’, anyone serious about writing could benefit from having an agent. I’d like to think I know how to write, but couldn’t put together a deal to save my life. And trust me, good agents work hard for their money. I also like saying: ‘You have to speak to my agent.’ It gives conversations a certain, I don’t know, gravitas.

 

Your forthcoming book is on Jeff Buckley. What interests you about him?

Many things: Why is he as popular now than he was alive, possibly even more so? I knew it was more than the old notion of ‘die young, leave a pretty corpse’, even though Buckley did have that going for him. The emotional wallop of the guys’ voice and his art, at least to me, struck way deeper than, say, Kurt Cobain or Layne Staley, sort-of-peers who also died way too young. Buckley mightn’t have left behind a huge ‘body of work’ but what he did record has timelessness. As I point out in the book, the one artist who achieved something similar was his father, Tim Buckley, and while it’s a comparison that the younger Buckley would have hated, it’s absolutely spot on. I also knew that there was a great ‘back story’ with Buckley. It was quite the soap opera: a messed-up relationship with his label, a conga line of ex lovers, psychological problems, drug issues, family drama, and the works— everything I’d like to read in a juicy bio.

 

What sort of advice would you give to aspiring writers?

Just keep writing. And do it every day. Set yourself a target, be it a certain amount of words or time at the keyboard every day. That way you can work out a method to get through the dry spells; to be able to keep writing and producing even when the ideas aren’t coming to you naturally is a necessary tool for writers. And never dodge a deadline: I’ve been an editor and respect that there’s always a commercial consideration with any work. If you can’t hit a deadline there’s bound to be dozens of others who can. And, at least from my perspective, I’d recommend not trying to be too clever when writing; if you can cut through the crap in a few short, sharp words, why bother trying to impress someone with your impressive vocabulary and risk losing their interest? Save that for your Pulitzer acceptance speech.

 

Interview by Neil Daniels 2008