 Something
more than a journeyman and less than a superstar, Joe Jackson has a reputation for being a
reclusive and prickly character. But he refuses the low road with A Cure for Gravity,
a resolutely non-lurid autobiography of a man who considers music to be a noble calling.
It matters not that the author was once lumped in with England's insurgent
first-generation punks and new-wavers; here Jackson insistently focuses on his development
as a composer, player, and performer, approximately in that order. Born to modest means in
a setting where a sickly, creative youngster such as Jackson was regarded with suspicion,
if not contempt, the young Brit was trained in the classics and developed his keyboard
skills, playing everything from cabaret to progressive rock before finally setting off on
his own as a sharp-tongued, ska-influenced Angry Young Man. A more sophisticated musician
than his rag-tag running mates (he's recently released an ambitious fusion of pop, jazz,
and classical elements dubbed Symphony No. 1), Jackson revels in the intricacies of
his craft--as much or more than he does in telling his own up-from-the-gutter tale. Old
new-wavers who remember the author from his 1978 Look Sharp! debut and devotees of
his more stylish early '80s recordings may be caught off guard by the short shrift Jackson
gives his actual recording career; indeed, he shrugs off a couple decades in the final
pages of the book. But the articulate, idiosyncratic author is clearly more interested in
addressing what makes a musician than what happens once a musician has it made. --Steven
Stolder |