What a surprise. As many suspected, but couldn’t exactly put their finger on, Robert Hilburn was keeping a secret. A three decade secret. The secret, finally revealed in this ‘memoir’ of sorts, is that while we all thought he was the pop music critic for the Los Angeles Times, Hilburn was quietly on another mission. The search for the replacement Elvis.
As the pop (or more aptly, rock) music critic of one of the nation’s largest daily broadsheets, Hilburn was charged with bringing the world of rock’n'roll to the doorsteps of his avid readers weekly and he developed a solid reputation for doing so within music circles. Over the years however, many readers began to notice the critic’s seeming obsession with a small cast of characters who garnered outsized coverage often at the expense of other so-called talents. The plurality of Hilburn’s coverage seemed to center around a handful of iconic figures (Springsteen, U2’s Bono, Prince) as well as a coterie of other performers that played to the critic’s early country leanings (John Fogerty, the Band’s Robbie Robertson, and even a true country act like Waylon Jennings). While the writer certainly covered other acts (LA’s “X” was a perennial favorite as was P.J. Harvey in his latter day writings), most acts escaped much of his purview presumably due to his judgment as to their lesser cultural importance. (In these pages, Clapton, R.E.M., Pearl Jam and The Clash collectively get less mentions than a single Springsteen album, ‘Nebraska,’ while Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd simply don’t exist.)
In “Cornflakes with John Lennon: And Other Tales from a Rock ‘n’ Roll Life,” we now have the answer, the reason, the motivation for it all. Simply put, Hilburn was searching, consciously or otherwise, for the successor to Elvis Presley; an act that left an indelible mark on the young critic that proved difficult, if not impossible to dismiss. Hilburn’s quest was to find and identify the next icon to capture the imagination of the mass rock audience. Not just good bands or those who made great records, but singular performers who could rise to take the leadership of an entire genre, much the way Elvis did until his demise. To Hilburn, it is all about the message, the grand statement and the commitment needed to carry it to the world.
Along the way, the author shares stories – most rather candid and personal – from his Louisiana upbringing filled with country and blues to his time spent with his idols like John Lennon, Springsteen and even Michael Jackson. Through his unique access, we are given quite a window into many a superstar’s otherwise private moments; backstage with Yoko, coaxing reluctant interviewees like Springsteen and Dylan, and yes, even corn flakes with John Lennon.
Beyond the wall of fame, Hilburn examines his own influence on star-making (Elton John’s U.S. debut at the Troubadour) or lack thereof (John Prine’s early work). Through it all, what comes across are two things. One, that Hilburn was keenly aware of zeroing in on the artist even over and above any singular piece of musical output, and, two, that much as his critics argued for years, the writer was, at times, perhaps indeed guilty of acting as a fanboy in ‘critic’s’ disguise. And while this may have given rise to some contempt during his years as a top metropolitan arbiter of taste, it certainly makes for a great (and appropriate) read when presented in a book of reportage that is both personally insightful and a fun behind-the-scenes ride through the three most powerful decades of rock and roll as only a person of Hilburn’s stature and access could deliver.
Coming to paperback this October.