Book Review: Our Band Could Be Your Life

Emphasis on "could".

Oxford English Dictionary defines the word “nerd” as a person who is extremely enthusiastic and knowledgeable about a particular subject, especially one of specialist or niche interest. It is one thing to be a fan of something. It’s another entirely to allow it to represent you. After reading Michael Azerrad’s 2001 book Our Band Could Be Your Life, which profiles the bands best representative of the American indie-hardcore scene in the 1980s, the book succeeds in proving the author, along with thousands of teenagers, became some of the most hardcore music nerds. Pun intended. These bands could be your life, but reading the book I came away more impressed with the groundwork they laid, the dedication they maintained, and their impact on underground music’s future than I did with the music they made. I am in general agreement, but with key disagreements to the author’s point.

The strength of the book is in its characters. Azerrad allows the people comprising the movement to shine and recollect, unfiltered, on their experiences, relationships, music, and lives. In many ways, the book portrays glamour in the rough - at the best of times - and the downright despairing conditions that bands endured trying their absolute best, undeterred, to make something of themselves and of the scene they occupy. Life in a busted-up sprinter van, freezing cold on the road, is as close to a Rolling Stones tour bus as you get. Shows in VFW halls and DIY spaces are the norm. Our Band excels at giving the reader an approximation of the rush and desperation of trying to make it.

In particular, much time is dedicated to Steve Albini’s opinions about anyone and everyone under the sun. His snobbery is at once frustrating and an endearing preview of what’s in store for indie music fandom. There’s nothing inherently wrong with Albini’s behavior towards music. In fact, I find it refreshing to get unfiltered opinions from main players in the game. It points towards the way music fans are protective about their favorite bands. An attitude that has spread unusually wide today, diffused through the tendrils of even major pop acts in 2024. Without Albini’s commentary, the book would have been a much flatter project, rife with the admiration that many of these artists have for one another, though importantly not always towards their bandmates.

I think where the author leads you astray is in believing that all of these bands did make it. It could be said that the acts are more famous than they ever were popular. Take for instance a band like Fugazi, unapologetically and heroically principled, but most remembered today for exactly those things and not as much for their music. Azerrad portends the rise of all the bands but conveniently cuts short just before any one of them really breaks big. Granted, it was in his mission statement not to depict the full arc of each act, but to focus on their rise and independent record label output. The approach is slightly dishonest because it assumes that there exists meaningful work to speak of after the initial boom in any of the portrayed bands’ oeuvres.

This is a book by a fan for fans. To me, it also mirrors the rise of zine culture rampant among supporters of the likes of Black Flag, Husker Du, Minor Threat, and many others. Unfortunately, for someone previously unindoctrinated, listening to the music only goes so far in validating the book’s existence. While melody roots itself more the deeper into the 80s you travel, early bands range from difficult to listen to, to totally grating on the ears.

The most generous I can be is giving Azerrad the benefit of the doubt that the obsessiveness of the fans is a necessary component to the art. He does go out of his way to remind the reader that shows were intimate and the fan experience was often a major forethought for bands as they toured America, Canada, and Europe. Take, for instance, Henry Rollins. As lead singer of Black Flag, Rollins lifted a lot of weights in order to beat the shit out of his own fans at his own shows. I don’t want to discount the performance-art dimension encased in that point and many of the others made by the book.

Overall, I enjoyed Our Band Could Be Your Life. I like the obsessive details of a scene that seems to verge on cult behavior, both by the fans and the bands. The DIY spirit highlighted by Azerrad certainly endures, making the chronicling of its origins an important endeavor in its own right. If you’re already into this era of hardcore or art-punk, it’s a no-brainer. If you’ve ever obsessed about a musical genre, you might also find it a worthwhile meditation on your own psyche (pop-obsessed fans need not apply). I really wanted to read this as a precursor to Azerrad’s more famous book about Nirvana. Maybe I’m going to appreciate Our Band Could Be Your Life more while reading Come As You Are: The Story of Nirvana. For now, thanks for the words and the stories. The music, so-so.

Rating: 🍮🍮🍮