It was the drugs that brought Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin and Jim Morrison – all aged 27. The murder of Wenner’s favorite John Lennon would end his ’60s idealism. , where he continued to bathe The Beatles in a white light, published the sour interview “Lennon Remembers” in book form, and the magazine’s partisan abuse of Paul McCartney’s glorious early solo career.
‘Like a Rolling Stone’ turns out to collect moss: wet lump celebrities – born in January 1946, from when truly a handful of Jeans were treated by Dr. Benjamin Spock, ‘ to the Black Tie Family Picnic. Helped him build his induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.
His father was a formula tycoon. His mother helped in the business, but she is also a novelist and a free spirit, which she compares to Aunt Mame. The newspaper young Wenner was publishing at boarding school had a gossip column. A career headline who specializes in hiring and firing his spinner, he writes here in more expository than introspective writing, offering resumes for even minor characters.
“The cart of apples was balanced,” he says, shrugging at the double life he led for so long until Nai’s declaration of love and the changing times turned it upside down.
Although his journalists regularly defended the oppressed, Wenner boasts of a life of unbridled hedonism and seems reluctant to reconcile contradictions. His staff actively covers climate change while he enjoys the Gulfstream (“My first flight was alone, sitting alone on a cloud, listening to the knocking of heaven’s door.”) was there”). At his 60th birthday party at Manhattan’s trendy fish restaurant Le Bernardin, Bruce Springsteen stands up and yells, “Champagne, pot cookies, hum like Percocet/Sabrejet.” Sing the winner’s song. Privately his chef makes his sauce for pasta for Wenner’s entourage at Burning His Man. Wenner and Bono wave to each other from the Central Park West terrace and have a midnight dinner with McCartney by the “Silver Sea”. (“Stars – they’re like us!”, by another former Wenner property, Us Weekly.)
There was no better way for Johnny Depp to spend his $1 million than to shoot the ashes of longtime Rolling Stone fixture Hunter S. Thompson from a cannon high on the Statue of Liberty.
“Like a Rolling Stone” is very entertaining, but only sporadically reveals the uneven ground under Wenner’s feet. Long sections of the book read like his private flight manifesto or his list of gala concert sets. As a regular reader, you only get a partial access pass.