David Sylvian spans three decades of image-conscious pop culture. From South London schoolboy in the Seventies to respected composer of the Nineties and beyond, he remains a uniquely fascinating hero.The new edition of Martin Power's acclaimed biography explores every detail of a unique life. The formation of Japan, their signing to Ariola-Hansa in 1977 and a shaky career start. Success with a new glamorous image and two classic albums, Gentlemen Take Polaroids and Tin Drum and the band's break-up and the start of Sylvian's solo career.Including many interviews and reviews of all Japan and Sylvian albums, this unique biography delves into the compelling world of the Lewisham lad who became the Last Romantic.
For me who recently started to discover the music of David Sylvian and Japan, Power's book is a nice introduction to learn more about this fascinating musician. But unfortunately this biography is not based on interviews the author himself made with Sylvian. As a result, an important ingredient is missing to guarantee the success of this book and the satisfaction of a devoted fan.
I once saw David Sylvian (accompanied by the rest of Japan) in full New York Dolls style make up, dyed hair and women's blouses walk past a queue of hormonal Glaswegian boys waiting to see the hard rocking gods Blue Oyster Cult. Given this insane act of bravery (it was 1978, a much less enlightened time) I was intrigued to find out more about him. This is an adequate introduction although, as other reviewers have noted, it is largely compiled from press interviews. It is fairly balanced in reviewing Sylvian's music and occasionally paints his actions in a less than flattering light which is refreshing in a biography of this type. Sylvian himself gives little away, talking in generalities in interviews but he is obviously a bright working class kid who has taken what talent he had and ran with it. He wears his influences on his sleeve a little to much, especially earlier in his career but that is often the case with autodidacts.
OK as far as it goes but rife with factual errors and mainly consists of rehashed magazine interviews. Gets its third star since there is nothing else available to cover this period of Sylvian's career.
Pulling Punches I've enjoyed Sylvian's subtle, intricate, flickering music for a long time, but within certain limits: from "Tin Drum" (the last Japan album, released in 1981) to "Everything And Nothing" (the wide-ranging and comprehensive compilation which appeared in 2000). Before that period, I found Japan to be too derivative; after that, I had the impression that things fell apart. Reading this biography helped to revise my judgement, and has sent me back to exploring the music a little more (I'm particularly appreciating "Snow Borne Sorrow", the 2005 record he made with Nine Horses, at the moment).
Which, I suppose, is all you can ask of a music biography. Probing more deeply, the book comprehensively lays out Sylvian's career up to 2004, and is written about as well as is required, although the author seems to be over-fond of the use of "sadly", and - as has been pointed out by other reviewers - appears to confuse some near-homophones (e.g. portentously / pretentiously [p94], gentile / genteel (or gentle?) [p191]). In addition, some of his facts are misplaced: it might be nit-picking to point out that the star of "Merry Christmas Mr Lawrence" was Tom Conti, not Conteh [p76], and that the fifth King Crimson album was "Larks' Tongues In Aspic", not "Larks In Aspic" [p97], but given how easy it is to google this sort of thing (and how obsessive his readers are likely to be), it's disappointing to find such lacunae in a pretty good piece of work.
While this is an entertaining read, especially on the Japan era, the book suffers from being sourced from old magazine articles, interviews and reviews. Some intriguing avenues aren’t explored in the depth they deserve (the Rain Tree Crow era and fall out and David’s admission that he didn’t enjoy sex either with women or men).
While it only goes up to the break up of Japan for obvious reasons, Anthony Reynolds’ biography A Foreign Place is far more incisive and in depth run through many of the same events, read that instead.
I have an odd interest in Sylvian. I listen to him occasionally, but I find that his music occupies a very unique space that has an effect on me that’s very personal. As a result, I’ve read some books over time about him and Japan (including a recent one), and I find this one to be the best. It provides a lot of background details and isn’t afraid to speculate on his music or life. Worth a read if you’re also interested in Sylvian.
It’s a bit old now and only goes up to Blemish but I really enjoyed this book while listening to the recorded works of Japan and Sylvian. It brought back some memories as these were my secondary school years and into adulthood. I learned some new facts and it also prompted me to listen to some other collaborative albums that I neglected over the years. I enjoyed the writing style and the glimpses into this private man’s life.