About book Straight Life: The Story Of Art Pepper (2001)
Back in my jazzbo days, I had this one Art Pepper LP. At the time, I didn’t know much about his life, but the album cover told a story in itself. There was Pepper: a shady-looking dude, his once-handsome features coarsened by years of hard living, a bare forearm displaying crude jailhouse tats. He looked more like an old carny than a jazz musician. Yet the music itself was in stark contrast to this rough exterior: unguardedly tender and deeply beautiful, it had no earthly business coming out of that man’s horn. But that was Art Pepper: when he wasn’t being a white-trash fuckup—shooting smack, stealing auto parts, going in and out of prison—he recorded some of the loveliest jazz in history. Straight Life, Pepper’s oral autobiography, doesn’t shed much light on this dichotomy. Pepper himself seems as mystified as anyone by the source of his talent. It was always just there, apparently, and could be summoned at will. No matter how strung out he was, no matter how many months it had been since he’d picked up a saxophone, put a battered old horn in his mouth and imperishable sounds poured out of him. Part of the book’s magic is that, throughout, Pepper remains blithely unaware of his own assholery. He’ll tell these completely insane stories as if they were the most natural things in the world, fully expecting the reader’s sympathy and adoration, and the whole time your jaw’s hanging open and you’re thinking: “Holy. Fuck. I cannot believe you’re telling me this. But don’t stop now, you crazy son-of-a-bitch.” What makes it even more insane is that all of this stuff was dictated to his wife. The chicks he “balled”, the joys of heroin, the hare-brained robberies he pulled to support his habit: nothing’s off-limits, and everything’s recounted with the same naïve gusto. Laurie Pepper, the wife in question, made a crucial (and brave) editorial decision: she sought out dozens of her husband’s colleagues and cronies, put them on tape, then interspersed Art’s narrative with these other depositions, thus setting up a counterpoint to Pepper’s self-mythologizing. So in one section you have Pepper reminiscing about his years in San Quentin, bragging about what a bad-ass he was and how he’d decided he needed to kill someone to cement his rep. And he totally would have done it, too—had the shiv made and everything! Then he got early parole. Bummer. A page or two later, one of the guys he was in the joint with—a real bad-ass— is laughing good-naturedly about what a “pathological physical coward” Art was. The book would’ve been amazing in any case, I think, but it’s these choral interludes that make it the stone-cold masterpiece it is. In fairness to Pepper, it must be said that almost everybody liked him, even those who knew better than to trust him. They couldn’t help it. Like a lot of weak people, he had an insatiable need for love and a cunning ability to extort it. The thing that fascinates and horrifies me about the man is that, while he experienced enough pleasure and pain for ten lifetimes, he never really learned anything, never repented, never changed. He wasn’t a malicious person, by any means, just incredibly selfish—one of those charming rogues who blunder their way through life, leaving broken hearts and ruination in their wake. If his talent exempted him from normal accountability to some degree, his physical beauty did the rest (everyone remarks on how hot he was, including Art himself). Men wanted to be his buddy and give him free drugs, and women wanted to take care of him. What chance did he have? Poor bastard. I don’t envy him one bit. But it must have been a freaky trip while it lasted.
I read a review in Harper's about another book written by Laurie Pepper (co-author of Straight Life ) about Art Pepper and at least 3/4 of this review was dedicated to discussing how amazing Straight Life was. I still have no sense at all how good the new book is, but a flat out advertisement encouraging one to read Straight Life could not have been more persuasive. I found it impossible not to be intrigued by the selected excerpts discussing Art Pepper's hideous childhood and introduction to heroin and descriptions about his participation in a cult and as an inmate at San Quentin. Not to mention that Pepper was probably the one of (if not the) best alto sax players ever (I'll take the testimony presented in Straight Life as fact here since I know nothing about jazz). So I came to Straight Life not as a Pepper fan, but curious about how an autobiography as lauded as this one, with such ardent fans (at least given the discussion in Harper's ), had escaped my attention. I can't answer that question, but I can say this is an amazing book and I understand exactly why everyone was well, so, jazzed.The story can't be beat -- Pepper had some unbelievable experiences -- but it is way it is told that makes this work such a triumph. Spoken by Art; taped, transcribed, and edited by Laurie, this reads like you have a junkie jazzman sitting on your couch telling you about "that one time when... ". Yet there are no tall tales here. No matter how morally bankrupt or desperate, Art is relentlessly honest and what he reveals about himself is shocking. Highly highly recommended.
Do You like book Straight Life: The Story Of Art Pepper (2001)?
this is the raw art -- the book is an (edited) transcription of tapes. so it's raw and the sentences aren't beautifully constructed but there's still a music to them as one would expect from art pepper.one doesn't have to know a thing about jazz to appreciate the life art lived. in his book he describes with clarity: drugs, prison, and cults. he tells things honestly, though one must be careful not to confuse this with "truth" -- there is some balance achieved through the insertion of interviews of people around him -- once you sort of understand art, you sort of understand better his point of view.
—Harrison
Straight Life was narrated by Art Pepper to his wife Laurie Pepper who edited and organized the book for publication. That may be why his voice comes through in such a direct and personal way. Or maybe it's because Pepper was such a fanatic about honesty and truth in his musical expression, and that carried over into his story-telling. In any case the result is a book that is a very compelling read, frightening, disgusting, and sometimes very funny (esp. the Synanon chapters). Straight Life is not for jazz fans only, but jazz fans will be surprised to learn that such beautiful and lyrical phrasing and tone could come from such a train wreck of a life. Laurie Pepper deserves a lot of thanks and credit for bringing this book to publication.
—Robert
An amazing read - gritty, beautiful, sad, and pitchblack funny. You would have to go to Chandler to find an LA as simultaneously enchanting and repulsive. Art is the ultimate charming asshole, spinning a story that soars and crashes thru a life wracked by self-doubt and bad choices, not the least of which was a heroin addiction that hobbled a brilliant career and left him spending most of the sixties in San Quentin. But both God and the Devil are in the details. I am haunted by his descriptions of a line of musicians playing their instruments as they walk from a stranded bus in the snow, or a whiteknuckle recording session with the Miles Davis rhythm section (Coltrane era) after a months-long drug stupor, or him practicing alone in an empty prison yard. His skills as a raconteur are evident, but so are Laurie Pepper's skills as editor. She was not afraid to juxtapose Art's boasts with contradictory comments from his friends and colleagues, making her husband out as less than a saint, and his life as far from a feel-good redemption story as possible. Art was Art, pretty and pretty fucked up, and his life was a struggle til the end. Which is why I like this book, I guess.
—Rufussenex
