The subtitle of Ben Mason's memoir “Sex, Trucks, and Rock N Roll” is a spiritual journey, but it's far too neat for this book. It's four in the morning, the first chapter begins, and I'm still online.
So begins this heady story of the life of a free-thinking musician, songwriter and drummer. All the girls want to go home with the members of a rock band, but Ben, hoarse from the screaming lyrics over guitar riffs and backing vocals, only wants to go home to the woman he loves.
Shiny with sweat and glitter, Mason dreams of a hot shower and the honest love of his girlfriend. It's not as easy to obtain as he hoped, and this book follows him as he stumbles and moves forward, determined to find them.
There's something angry inside Mason that motivates him, and when he includes snippets of lyrics from his songs in this narrative, it's clear to see how powerful that something is. He is honest, trusting and generous; and readers may find themselves thinking or maybe even muttering out loud Oh, Ben. Do not do that. But the book is already written, and the Masons have already done it.
He is a good writer, both wicked and poetic. His prose moves forward with compelling purpose. He appeals to drunken, sloppy crowds in small-town bars, but he also lands recording contracts with major labels. He's always on the verge of success, but he's not paying the bills. Organized, creative and confident, he struck out on his own to make money as a one-man moving company.
Years of hauling speakers, mic stands and drums from the back of the band's old van have prepared Mason for loading and unloading couches and break fronts in and out of the back of the band. 'an eighteen-foot truck.
Here the book presents an unexpected scenario. Mason and his truck become Big Boy Movers, with his group of well-meaning friends, losers and muscle-bound ne'er-do-wells. The survival of Big Boy Movers becomes as captivating as Mason's passion for music, a story as magnetic as his volatile love life.
Throughout this carnival of his life, Mason experiences an inexplicable blue presence, an aura, a sudden blue cloud from the corner of his eye which, instead of annoying him, brings him calm. He doesn't question it until late in the book, and why it comes to him may never make sense. It does not matter; Mason is too self-involved to keep his metaphorical head above water. Which he manages, incredibly, to do.
“Sex, Trucks, and Rock N Roll” is a great read on its own.
But to add to the mix, it's worth checking out Google Primadonna, the mind-blowing rock band Mason played in, where he set doll heads on fire and threw them into the crowd, then compared that to his solo music, supported by familiar musicians. names in rock & roll. The difference explains the spiritual journey he claims with the title of his book. Undeniably a journey between sweat, screams and demand to an almost sweet and haunting sound of suggestion. Wait, he's singing. Breathe deeply and dream.
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